The Thrush
by Silverneko9lives0
Summary: Twenty years ago, Bilbo had his heart broken by his first love, a Dwarf from the Blue Mountains, on the account he was still a child. Now of age, he goes to the Blue Mountains to fulfill a promise he made to that Dwarf...except there is a reason stepping out your door is a dangerous business. warnings: attempted rape, non-sexual underage, character death, fluff, smut, and angst, AU
1. Chapter 1

~ Erebor, 2769 ~

Thror slammed the door opened, striding toward the field, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on a raven haired youth.

With a mighty roar, the young dwarf forced his opponent on the defensive and brought the other lad to his knees, sword poking into the chest. Thror clapped slowly. The boys turned to him. The victor lowered his weapon and helped the other youth to his feet.

"Good spar, my friend," he said. The other youth crossed his arms and sniffed, hiding his fury at losing—again—behind indifference.

"Good spar, your highness."

"Thorin, come," Thror said, beckoning the prince. Thorin obeyed, handing his weapons to the servant, who lurched under the weight.

"Where are we going, Grandfather?" Thorin asked when out of earshot of the soldiers. Thror chuckled, patting the boy's back.

"You will see," the old man promised. Thorin tilted his head to the side, confused and curious. Thror lead him up and up and up until they had reached the peak of the Mountain. He turned and stopped. "Thorin, when your father was about your age now, I brought him here so that he may find a wife one day."

Thorin made a face. "Grandfather…"

"Enough of that," Thror laughed, patting Thorin's shoulder.

Thorin didn't dare correct him. There was something about women in general that, simply put, grossed him out. Most lads he knew were curious about the mysterious women that they sometimes met, but Thorin never thought on them. It bothered him once, but he accepted it many years ago.

"Come and set sight to the first land you see. In that direction, you will find your future queen. You are the eldest, Thorin. You will need to marry."

Thorin kept his head bowed. Perhaps if he did so, he'd not have to choose a land to travel to for the purpose of finding a wife. He kept his gaze on the stones beneath his feet.

"Look up and find a place," Thror said. "Stay up here as long as you like, but not too long. You'll be brought down before dinner and I expect you to have chosen a land by then."

Thror left, closing the doors behind him.

Thorin scowled at it. How can one chose a wife when one has no interest in women? Thorin sighed and stayed on top of the mountain for what felt like hours.

A trill caught his ears and he turned to the bird flitting by, flying to the east. The bird was a thrush, black save for its bright yellow chest. And Thorin watched it go until he realized he had, without meaning to, chosen the land where his bride would be.

Thorin's eyes widen in horror. How could he let the bird distract him?

But the deed is done and he had looked. He prayed that he wouldn't be able to complete this quest.

"Aulë, please take this cup from me," he prayed, descending the steps.

"Ah! Thorin," his father said. "Have you found a land?"

Thorin nodded.

"Where?" Thror pressed.

"The Blue Mountains," Thorin rasped. He cleared his throat, blushing at the unmanly sound that came from his throat. Child or not, he was still a prince and should aim to sound befitting to his station. "The Blue Mountains," he repeated in a tone he felt better befit him.

His father and grandfather smiled. "The Blue Mountains, eh?" Thror said.

"I'll write them immediately," Thrain said. Thorin tried to quell the shaking he felt. "Though it's a bit far, he's not yet thirty."

"You went far yourself, if I recall, and just as young."

"I did, true. Fine. I'll write the letter. Thorin."

Thorin blinked, biting back his wish to scream his true preferences to his father. They wouldn't stand for it. It wasn't unheard of and far from uncivilized, but for a future king…

Children—heirs—were essential.

"Pack light. You leave in three days."

Thorin could only nod, too afraid to say anything more. He walked away from his father and grandfather, wondering what he was going to do. He would be expected to return with a woman of the Blue Mountains, but he knew he wouldn't be able to find a woman he liked, only men.

Thorin closed his door and slid to the ground—thankful that the pretense of might he displayed in public, so not to dishonor his relatives, could be put aside like a cloak—and wept.

~The Shire, 2924 (1324 by Shire Reckoning)~

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo groaned, pulling his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to block his mother's shouts.

"Bilbo Baggins!"

Nope. Not going to work.

Reluctantly, he left the confines of his bed and trudged down the stairs.

"About time," Belladonna said, a spoon in her hand. Bilbo's father was eying the bacon with a watering mouth. Bilbo sat at the table, still very groggy.

"Whatimeisit?" he grumbled, noticing it was still dark outside.

"Did you forget all ready?" Belladonna asked. "We've been talking about it since you were young. We're going to the Blue Mountains."

"Huh?" Bilbo asked, scrunching his brow. "What?"

"You _do_ remember, don't you? It was about twenty years ago?"

"Mum, I'm'mazed you ev'n r'mumb'r," Bilbo said, rubbing his eyes. "It's tu'urly."

"You made a promise," Belladonna snapped, waving the spoon threateningly in his face. "You're going. We're _all_ going."

Bilbo lay his head on the table, grumbling.

His eyes were closing again…then they snapped open and he sat up. "Wait, is that the promise I made to Thorin?"

"Well, I'm glad you remember the promise and who you made it to at last. And that you're coherent now."

"But that was ages ago. How was I supposed to remember?"

"I thought you'd have remembered regardless, considering how you adored Mr. Thorin so."

Bungo decided to help himself to the food, as his wife and son were still deep in conversation.

Bilbo swallowed, reaching for a raisin filled muffin. Now that he did remember the promise, he also remembered a part of it that he didn't tell his parents.

At all.

"_I'm too little now and I know I'm a boy, but I'm in love with you."_

_The dwarf cocked an eyebrow, frowning. "You __are__ too little, Bilbo."_

"_But you're not against that I'm a boy, are you? Just that I'm still underage? __When I'm an adult, I'll come to the Blue Mountains. Promise."_

"_Bilbo—"_

"**_Promise_**_," Bilbo stressed, kissing Thorin's cheek under his scraggly, ebony beard._

Yep. Bilbo didn't think his parents would approve of him having had a crush on a dwarf—a _male_ dwarf.

He spent a lot of time with Thorin, being awed by the blacksmith who came to the Shire to ply his trade there for a while.

Bilbo remembered being curious. He remembered how his curiosity grew to entirely smitten. He remembered his shyness and how he was coaxed out of it by the gruff dwarf over time.

Thorin had stayed only a year, but Bilbo thought that year one of the best of his life, even when Thorin left. His parents assumed he was upset because a friend he cherished had left. They never thought it was from a broken heart.

Thorin had rejected him after he made his parents promise to let him go to the Blue Mountains. He was too upset to tell them that the plan had been canceled.

"I doubt he remembers me," Bilbo said.

"Nonsense," Bungo piped, swallowing. "He sent word several times, asking us how you were."

"We've been in regular contact with Mr. Thorin," Belladonna said, sitting down, finally, to have a fill of her own.

Bilbo almost choked on the muffin. He reached for the milk, coughing, and drank, trying to soothe his throat. "This whole time?" he demanded, his voice a little hoarse.

"Yes."

"Why didn't he just write _me_ instead?"

Belladonna and Bungo looked at each other. "Bilbo…"

"We know you fancied him," Bungo said. Bilbo felt his body stiffen to lead. "And we decided to keep correspondence with him ourselves."

The heavy lead feeling in Bilbo started to boil.

"We were going to wait until you told us," Belladonna said, glaring at her husband. "But it never came up, so—" Bilbo stood and marched to the stairs, trying to keep some decorum though he really wanted to run. "Bilbo, where are you going?"

"Back to bed," Bilbo spat, turning around. "If you want to go to the Blue Mountains, go ahead, but I'm not going."

"Bilbo," Belladonna stood and approached him, reaching for his arm. Bilbo ran up the stairs to his room, locking the door from the inside with a chair. Belladonna rapped her knuckles on the door. "Bilbo? Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins, come out this instant! Let's at least talk about it. _Bilbo_!"

Bilbo pressed his hands hard against his ears, hiding under the covers.

He didn't want his parents to ever know. That they did know—how could they have kept their knowledge hidden for this long?

How _did_ they know in the first place? Was he that obvious about his feelings for Thorin? Did they know that he had gotten his first broken heart from Thorin? If they did, why did they think this was a promise worth honoring?

"BILBO, WE'RE GOING_ AS A FAMILY_ WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!" Bungo roared, startling Bilbo. His father rarely yelled, but when he did…

Bilbo opened the door. "No choice?"

"No choice," Bungo said through clenched teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

The journey to the Dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains was three days.

Each step filled Bilbo with undeniable dread. And when they reached the doors, he tried to bite back the, "It's not too late to turn back around and go home," that itched the tip of his tongue.

The doors opened for them and Bilbo was half dragged, half pulled into the fortress.

"Welcome, Master and Mistress Baggins, and of course a _hearty_ welcome to _you_, Young Master Baggins," an elderly dwarf greeted with a bow, his hair white and his face smiling. "I am Balin, son of Fundin, at your service. King Thorin is expecting you."

"_King_ Thorin?" Belladonna asked, hiding a gasp behind her mouth. "We…we thought he was a blacksmith."

"His majesty always preferred to earn his own wealth using his own hands before the death of his father. He worked often and traveled far to ply his trade, though it's not necessary or becoming of a king—you don't know much about him, do you, Madam?"

"I admit we wrote often, but not once did he mention _that_."

"More for the sake of being treated as an equal than to deceive you, Madam."

Bilbo felt stiff when Thorin approached them.

He remembered the simple dress and wear that Thorin used to wear: a simple tunic which revealed hard muscles, leather breeches, heavy boots…

Not so now.

Thorin dressed in fine fur and cloth befitting royalty: dark blue clothes hemmed in grey-brown fur brought out the sapphire in his eyes. The black hair was finely combed and pulled into smaller braids. The boots were made of polished leather.

Bilbo averted his gaze to the ground, refusing to look at Thorin. His chest ached when he did and it wasn't from the revelation that Thorin was no mere blacksmith.

"I'm afraid the settlement here in the Blue Mountains is not my domain. I am a guest and have been for many years and for many reasons until recently. I returned for the purpose of our meeting here today."

Bilbo hoped he could slide away unnoticed and be left alone while his parents and Thorin caught up as though they were old friends.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked.

"Fine," Bilbo answered, trying to hide his ire.

If Balin suspected anything, he said nothing.

"Really?" Belladonna gasped.

Curiosity piqued, Bilbo looked up at the ongoing conversation between his parents and Thorin.

"Yes," Thorin answered. "I'm well aware it's unusual, but that was my main reason for leaving the Shire as quickly as I did."

Bilbo watched his parents shift uncomfortably. What were they talking about? Why did all three of them look so nervous?

"Hmm…well, I'm not too happy about _when_ it all happened, but I suppose it's all fine now," Bungo said.

"What's fine?" Bilbo asked, wishing he had paid attention.

His parents looked at each other, then at Thorin.

"Balin, could you escort Master and Mistress Baggins to the guest quarters?"

"Of course, your highness," Balin bowed and led Bilbo's parents away, leaving Bilbo alone with Thorin at the mountain's entrance gate.

Thorin took a step toward Bilbo, who took a step back. "What are you doing?"

"Staying away from you," Bilbo snapped. "You made it clear then, so what are _you_ doing _now_?"

"You really expected me to accept the heart of a fourteen year old boy?" Thorin asked, "When by _every_ law in Middle Earth states it was inappropriate to do so despite whether I in turn wished to offer _my_ heart to you? You are old enough now to know I had no choice but to tell you I could not accept your love, Bilbo. Nor could I give you mine."

"But it's okay to _now_?" Bilbo shouted. "After twenty years, it's okay to take back what you told me then?"

"I admit I didn't handle it as well as I ought to have, but what should I have said?"

"_Anything _else," Bilbo shouted. "Anything else may have been better received! I'm an adult now, yes, but I'm also different from who I was before. I'm not in love with you anymore, so—"

Bilbo's voice choked in the back of his throat when he realized Thorin was closer than he had intended to let him get. And that Thorin was kissing him with beastly ferocity, pinning him to the wall.

"I came to the Blue Mountains many years ago to find my spouse, Bilbo," Thorin said when the kiss broke. "My father and grandfather expected me to fall in love with a woman though my heart sang a different song. I came to find my future spouse, but not a wife. Rather I came in search of a husband. I did not know when I first looked on these mountains that I was looking too far until I found you."

Bilbo gulped, trying to fight back the lightness he was feeling. _I'm not in love with him anymore. Not anymore. Not anymore! Stop beating so wildly! I don't love him anymore! _"What are you talking about?"

"A thrush, Bilbo," Thorin stated huskily, his voice barely above a whisper, "When I saw you for the first time, it was because I spotted a thrush nesting in a crook under the roof of the forge. Do you not remember that bird fly out of the forge and the first person I saw after was you. I knew it was you, and had always been you I had waited for my whole life. But you were still a child. I had to wait for you to grow up, _âzyungâl_.* Please forgive me for whatever injustice I have done you. I love you, Bilbo, and would have you as my husband if you would have me as yours."

Bilbo averted his gaze.

Perhaps the bird had significance to Thorin, but he didn't remember seeing a thrush that day he went to the forge when his curiosity overpowered caution. "I know it probably means nothing to you. I know you are still hurt from what I've said. I half expected you not to come. I am glad you did, even if unwillingly."

He looked at Thorin again, hating how his heart still seemed to beat rapidly and how giddy he felt around the Dwarf-king. "How do you know it was unwillingly?" Bilbo asked, pondering if Dwarves could read minds.

"It shows on your face."

_Oh_.

"Are you hungry? Or do you wish to sulk more?"

"You treat me no differently now than you did then," Bilbo snapped.

"It's hard not to when you still act like a child. You're sulking just as you used to."

Bilbo slipped out of the cage Thorin made around him with his body, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking away further into the stone city.

#

_Thorin had loaded the last of his tools on to the cart when Bilbo ran to him and embraced him. _"_My parents said its okay, so I'll definitely keep my promise." __Thorin's jaw tightened and he pushed Bilbo back roughly. __The smile gracing the young hobbit's face disappeared. "Thorin?" _

"_You should no better than to make promises you don't intend to keep."_

"_But I __do__ intend to keep it."_

_Thorin glared at him. __Bilbo rarely saw this look and it had __never__ been directed at him before. _"_The word of a child means nothing to me. I won't hold you to it. Go home where you belong and stay there. I'm done entertaining a brat."_

_He climbed on to the cart and drove away toward the mountains._

_Bilbo couldn't move. Every nerve in him was on fire. It felt hard to breathe and his chest felt constricted. __Then he turned around and ran, his feet running as fast as they could carry him. He hid in the woods, finding his favorite spot underneath a tree. __He hugged his legs and wept. When he thought there were no more tears to spend, more would come, tasting of salt on his tongue._

_#_

Bilbo found a place he hoped was secluded from prying eyes and leaned against the wall, staring at his feet. He sighed, berating himself for, as Thorin had pointed out, acting like a sullen teenager. It wouldn't help him to mope.

Looking back in the direction he had gone, he wondered what truth was in Thorin's words.

Bilbo shook his head. What good would it do him to fall for Thorin again? A voice in the back of his head was screaming, but almost unheard: "You still love him." Bilbo felt torn between horrified and ecstatic to admit that the tiny voice was right.

Bilbo groaned, squatting and holding his head in his hands. _What am I going to do?_

"Bilbo?"

"Master Bilbo?"

Bilbo stepped out of his hiding place. "I'm here," he said.

Balin slumped his shoulders. Whether in relief or annoyance, Bilbo couldn't name. "Dinner is ready, Master Bilbo."

"Oh, thank you."

Bilbo followed Balin down the hall. "I suppose it's safe to say that you and Thorin aren't quite reconciled?"

"Reconciliation is going to take a lot longer than a few minutes to achieve," Bilbo answered.

"I suppose that's true," Balin said slowly. Bilbo followed him down the hall. "But if I may speak, Master Baggins, it is not hard to see how much he really cares for you. He knows he hurt you and it has hurt him as much. The king considers you his_ sanâzyung_, his true love. He would not harm you willingly. I do not believe that whatever passed between you and him in the past, whatever had happened, was intentional."

They stopped before a large hall. Bilbo gulped, not wanting to go in, but his appetite deemed that he must.

* * *

*"lover" neo-Khuzdul


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm surprised you're still up."

Bilbo turned around to Thorin. "I'm not tired."

Thorin sat beside him. "Is it too cold?"

"It's April. It's not that cold," Bilbo said, dangling his feet over the edge of the balcony. "It'd be colder if we came earlier."

A cloud veiling the full moon shone on them, bathing them in silver.

"I suppose that's true, isn't it. Erebor gets cold during the winter as well."

Bilbo sighed. "I understand why you couldn't return my feelings then, but did you have to break my heart all the same?"

"No."

"Then why did you?"

"I did not intend to break your heart," Thorin said. "I did not realize that I had done so until I saw you again today and before I had only suspected. I did not want to leave the Shire, Bilbo, but you were still far too young. I was afraid of how I felt for you. It was inappropriate. I had to leave and I did not want you to follow me. I did not trust myself."

Bilbo looked at the moon.

"You still could have said something different. I'm still a child to you, aren't I?"

"No. You're not. I wish it is easy to say that maturity and adulthood is easily defined, but it never has been. There are days I find myself embarrassed for acting like a Dwarfling."

The minutes passed.

Bilbo didn't know how long, but they sat in silence, watching the moon pass through the sky. "I never stopped loving you," Bilbo said, after much contemplation. "Not really. Odd how it takes meeting again to prove that to myself…But that doesn't mean my forgiveness is that easy to earn."

He could feel Thorin staring at him. His eyes burned Bilbo's skin like an iron brand. Thorin reached out and took a strand of Bilbo's hair in his, twisting it into a braid. Bilbo winced when he felt a clasp snap in place, holding the braid together.

"Should I…am I also supposed to braid your hair?" he asked.

Thorin dropped the strand. It hung almost uncomfortably behind Bilbo's ear. "Only if you have a clasp for it."

"I'll have to get one then."

"That can wait until morning, _âzyungâl_." Thorin stood. "Try to sleep, Bilbo."

"You're still treating me like a child," Bilbo accused.

Thorin smirked, and crossed his arms. "Believe me, I'm not."

#

"What about this one?" Belladonna asked, holding up a silver clasp to Bilbo.

Bungo was talking to the shopkeeper about different leaves and which ones make the best pipe weed.

Bilbo took the clasp in his hand and rubbed it between his fingers. The one he wore, gifted by Thorin, was gold and light with runes carved on it. This clasp was much simpler. Bilbo reached out for his, curious. Belladonna pulled his hand away.

"Stop that. I know it's odd to have in, but give it time."

"It feels weird, is all," Bilbo mumbled. "Is this…"

"I'm afraid it's what we can afford at the moment," Belladonna said. Bilbo looked at the clasp again. Maybe he could get it engraved later.

"Are you sure you want to go through this?" Belladonna asked as they approached the shopkeeper, who laughed at something Bungo said. Bilbo looked at his mother. "I want you to be happy. Are you sure, completely _sure_, you are willing to do this?"

"I learned a few things about dwarves when he was just a blacksmith I befriended. I know what braiding another's hair signifies in their culture, Mom. I didn't think I'd dare to want to go through with it until last night, but…yeah, I'm sure."

"Once we get that, I expect you to not take back your word."

"I know," Bilbo said, handing the clasp to the shopkeeper. "Can I please have my purse?" Belladonna handed him the bag and he counted the coins for the clasp.

"I think Mr. Balin had promised a tour of the mountains with one of the dwarves that live here, Bella," Bungo said, holding his arm for her. Belladonna looped her arm through his. "Bilbo, are you coming?"

"No. Go ahead."

"Suit yourself. See you at dinner."

"All right, Dad."

Bilbo carried the clasp in his hand, wishing it was grander than it looked. Or that it had more sentimental value than a few coins. He sighed and pocketed the clasp. Would he have a chance today to give it to Thorin? He wondered if he was acting too quickly, as his mother thinks. _Well, as she said, too late to take anything back now_. Bilbo returned to his own room, unsure where else to go. He didn't know if it was safe to seek Thorin at this time, though he wanted to get the clasp in his hair as soon as he could.

A part of him was unsure what to expect next. Thorin had only told him it was customary for two who are courting to braid the other's hair and bind the braid with a clasp. Beyond that, Bilbo knew nothing.

He placed the terry cloth wrapped around the clasp on the table and fell on to the bed, arms and legs splayed about him as a submission to boredom.

He debated whether he ought to have gone on the tour with his parents anyway.

A knock pulled him out of his reverie. Bilbo jumped off the bed and opened the door. Standing in the doorway was a large and burly dwarf who decorated his skin in tattoos and piercings. Bilbo thought him quite menacing.

"Master Baggins?"

"Yes?"

"Dwalin, at your service," he bowed to him. "The king wishes to speak with you before your journey to Erebor."

"Oh. Yes," Bilbo fumbled over his words, "Just a moment." He snatched the clasp from off the table, checking the cloth to make sure it had not fallen out. Dwalin led him out into the hallway and down the stairs to the lower levels of the fortress. Bilbo did not know what to make of the tense silence.

Thorin spoke in rough whispers to another dwarf. They grasped hands and the older dwarf strode out, glancing once at Bilbo. Dwalin bowed to Thorin and left him and Bilbo, closing the doors behind him. "You wanted to see me?" Bilbo asked, wondering if something had gone terribly wrong.

Thorin nodded. Bilbo approached him, uncomfortable with the distance between them. "The journey is long and it will just be the two of us, Balin, and Dwalin. I wanted to make sure you know a few things about camping. Especially since we can't stop six times a day to eat."

"Oh."

"I'll make sure the journey isn't too uncomfortable for you. But it would help if you're ready for whatever we may face." Thorin rested a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and steered him to a pile of cloth and rope.

"Didn't we go camping in East Farthing Wood, once?" Bilbo asked, untying the knot in the thickly woven rope. "With a few other boys?"

Thorin nodded, smiling. "It will be rougher this time around and a longer journey, but I remember that. You kept running ahead of the group and climbing trees."

"Otho kept tripping over roots," Bilbo laughed.

"I think you thought it wise to tackle a few lads to the ground once or twice."

Bilbo nodded. "I remember that too. I thought you'd be impressed if I was able to pummel them to the ground. I was quite naïve. You yelled at me."

Thorin chuckled. "It was either yelling at you to settle down or pummeling _you_ to the ground myself. I didn't think your parents would appreciate you coming home in the morning with a few bumps on your head. You acted a little slighted for a few minutes, then went on ahead and almost fell off the ledge with a couple other mischievous boys. Probably would have fallen if I didn't grab your necks."

"You showed us how to set up camp, and how to make a fire, and how to roast sausages over it with sticks. Then we stayed up late telling stories and singing songs. We woke up late and had to run back home before our parents could panic and accuse you of kidnapping."

Thorin grinned, watching Bilbo's progress. "You seem to remember most of what I taught you."

"I went a few times after on my own and practiced. Getting my dad to come was rather difficult. Mom ended up being more willing, but…"

"Not the same feel, is it?"

"No. But at least I was able to practice. It's been years since I last dared to camp. I'm surprised I remember how to tie a knot at all or how to build a fire."

Bilbo finished the knot he was working on. Thorin took it from his hands for inspection. "It will be different this time around, Bilbo," he said, setting the knot down, satisfied with its appearance. "Singing will be scarce, we may be braving more than elements. For all our sakes, let's hope just the elements. Food may or may not be that great."

"Are you trying to scare me?" Bilbo asked, frowning.

Thorin shook his head. "I'm trying to warn you. There's a difference."

Bilbo leaned back and remembered the clasp. He took it out, sitting straight. "Thorin, um…"

Thorin blinked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, I got a clasp earlier today…if you'll let me braid your hair. I can't guarantee it'll be a good braid, but…"

Thorin took Bilbo's hand in his. "Bilbo, I would be honored if you braided my hair."

Bilbo stood and separated a lock from the rest. He took two more locks of, he hoped, equal thickness and weaved them over and around each other. He snapped the clasp at the end to keep the braid from unweaving itself. Satisfied it wouldn't come undone, he stepped away.

"Now what?" he asked. "I'm afraid I don't know as much as I thought, given all you taught me."

Thorin cupped Bilbo's cheek and kissed him. "Our engagement is now complete," he explained. "When we arrive at Erebor, our wedding will take place. Another braid will be woven in our hair at the end of the ceremony with matching clasps. Not unlike the rings used in the Shire to symbolize the unity of one's marriage. Other than that, it's not that much different from any other wedding you may have been to: blessings from a sanctioned priest or official, an exchanging of vows, the tying of hands with ceremonial rope, and food. Lots of food."

"And that's it?"

"The public part of the wedding," Thorin smirked. "The rest is between the two of us."

* * *

To MileyJackson: I did delete "Under the Bridge." You see, I was actually REALLY proud of "Under the Bridge" but a couple of times people reviewed, giving me critical feedback that was rather negative and to be honest, I was disappointed in what I had been told. If they were flames, I wouldn't have bothered deleting it, but when one gets critical feedback saying the story sucks and that's pretty much all you get in the review department...yeah, big blow to my self-esteem as a writer. I've never deleted a story before then...not in years! What sucks is I don't have a beta to send it to and figure out where I can fix it when all I was told is that the characters didn't seem believable and that the plot was confusing...


	4. Chapter 4

"Write often," Belladonna sniffed. "And keep safe."

"You know I will, Mum," Bilbo said, trying to sound anything other than disgruntled. "I'll write as soon as I get to Erebor. Tell you all about it. I don't know if I'll be able to write sooner than that, but I'll try to."

Belladonna placed a large, wet kiss on his cheek.

Bilbo tried not to act disgusted and embarrassed. He was thirty-three, for goodness sake!

Mothers…what can be done about them?

Bilbo turned to his father. Bungo held his hand out to him and Bilbo grasped it firmly. No words were exchanged between them.

What need be said that wasn't already?

We love you.

I love you too.

Keep safe.

I will.

Write often.

I'll do so as soon as I'm able.

Bilbo approached the pony laden with his things and climbed on top. The pony gave him a look. Bilbo wondered if he ought to be afraid for his life. He held firm and urged the pony forward. He proved to be better behaved than Bilbo expected.

He rode beside Thorin and dared to look back once when they reached the bottom of the slope outside the gates of Ered Luin.

He couldn't see his parents anymore.

"Something the matter?" Thorin asked.

"Just wondering if I'll see them again."

"If you wish to, you certainly may return to the Shire with an escort."

"Good. But I think I won't be back for a while," Bilbo said, returning to Thorin's side. "It's not customary for a Dwarf King to take a Hobbit as consort."

"No."

"So I'll probably have to stay a while so people can get used to the idea. Or at least, that's what I was thinking."

"It's a good idea," Balin said behind them. "Most of them are expecting his majesty to return with a Dwarrowdam not a hobbit lad."

Bilbo fumed.

"I'm an adult, you know."

"Aye, that you are, but thirty-three is still considered quite young by our people."

"We tend to live an average of three hundred years," Thorin explained. "Thirty-three years for Dwarrows is approximately twenty-five for Hobbits."

"Oh. So…thirty-three to Hobbits is…"

"Seventy, when Dwarves are considered adults."

"Ah." Bilbo said.

This made sense. But it also made real a certain predicament.

"Is it wise to wed outside your race then? It's inevitable that I'll die before you?"

Thorin blinked. "Rather grim."

Bilbo nodded. "I guess so, but that's curiosity for you. There's a reason it is said curiosity kills the cat."

Thorin snorted. "I know that saying well. It's been applied to me many times before. I'm nearly two hundred, Bilbo. I don't think there is anything you need to worry about."

"Oh. Okay," Bilbo said nothing more after, his curiosity sated for now.

A few minutes passed before another tingle of curiosity attacked him.

"What ought I expect of Erebor?"

Thorin smiled broadly. "Your curiosity will be the death of you, _âzyungâl_."

"Joke all you like. I prefer to be prepared for anything."

Thorin's grin widened. "Erebor is a single mountain peak. My kingdom is greatly respected and has been since my grandfather, Thror. Our economy is vast and not one person goes hungry. There is prosperity for everyone and everyone you will meet is generous.

"Sadly, there is a case of gold sickness among my line, so most of the gold made for our treasury goes outward to people in need. Erebor is as wealthy as it is charitable and my people are rewarded by Mahal for our generosity. It is not something most Dwarves are accustomed to, but greed poisoned my family. I do not wish to repeat the same mistake, so I do not. It is rare to find anyone without a roof over their head. Everyone is able to work in one way or other. We have a mighty garrison, led by Dwalin.

"Our food is not like the Shire's, but you will not be displeased with it. Our people value meat. Roasted meat and ale. Our celebrations are rowdier than that of the Shire, which are more festive. You're used to celebrating birthdays and weddings solstices and equinoxes, but we will celebrate for any reason we can find.

"We have our own festivals, but we also celebrate victory in war and will feast to that victory in honor of the fallen and in honor of the veterans. We celebrate the arrival of guests, to show our hospitality to them."

"So I should expect a grand welcoming?"

Thorin laughed. "A very grand welcoming," he answered. "You are to be my consort, that is: my husband. While it is true that many will wish you to be a Dwarrowdam, none will question my decision openly. You will feel most welcome, I assure you and hopefully you won't get too drunk. Our mead and ale is quite strong."

"Great, I can hardly handle the ale of the Shire _now_. I'll just steer clear of Dwarfish mead in copious quantities until I am able to drink as mightily as a Dwarf."

Thorin laughed again. Bilbo smiled. "So…as consort, what will be expected of me?"

Thorin hummed. "Not much, I'm afraid. You're welcome to do whatever you wish, though you will be expected to be by my side at social functions. You may also be by my side when I admit audience with other rulers, but you do not have to.

"You are also welcome to seek audience with me if there is something you wish to discuss with me that you believe may better the kingdom. I make the final decision where Erebor is concerned and in that setting you will be expected to treat me as your king, not your husband. You are also expected to host other husbands and wives of lords who will come to Erebor."

Bilbo groaned. "It sounds very dull."

"I will not lie, _âzyungâl_. It is _horrifically_ dull. But, as dull as they are, they are important and you do not have as much to do as I."

"I'm sure. Will I be allowed to learn Khuzdul?"

Thorin's smile vanished.

"I guess not," Bilbo mumbled. "But, Thorin, if I am to be Consort, wouldn't it be advantageous if I know the language? Even if just to know what's being said if someone decides to insult me?"

"I wish it were that simple, Bilbo."

"It can be."

"Bilbo, Khuzdul is a sacred language to my people. It is very rare for us to divulge it to anyone."

"Even to your husband?"

"I'm afraid so. It is not because I do not trust you, _âzyungâl_, because I _do_ trust you and I love you. To teach you Khuzdul would be sacrilege. There is fear that outsiders will abuse the knowledge the language gives. You'd have to prove yourself to my people before it could be allowed and even then I do not know if they'd be willing to let you learn our sacred language."

"Not even to simply _read_ it?"

"No. To learn to read it means you must learn to _speak_ it as well, otherwise the knowledge does not sink in as well as it should."

"But you're the king."

"I am. That doesn't mean I can go against Mahal's edict. If I were not a king, I would teach you Khuzdul regardless…maybe…"

Bilbo frowned. "You wouldn't. You fear your god too much."

"Bilbo—"

Bilbo pulled back until Dwalin and Balin were ahead of him, deciding to sulk for the time being.

Not be allowed to learn Khuzdul? How did Thorin think he'd abuse the language? How does one abuse a language anyway?

They arrived in Bree by dusk.

Thorin tried to coax Bilbo back, but the Hobbit refused to listen to any plea he had. Bilbo refused to leave his room, despite the growing hunger. It would not do for him to not eat.

Someone knocked on the door, jolting Bilbo to look in that direction.

"Bilbo?" Thorin called "Are you awake?"

Bilbo opened the door for Thorin. He came in, carrying a tray of food and set it on the table. Bilbo tore his gaze away from it, though his mouth watered.

He retook his place on the bed, legs pulled to his chin and arms wrapped around them.

Thorin sat on the bed.

"Bilbo, I am sorry I angered you. Please try to understand. I do not deny you our knowledge willingly. I would teach you Khuzdul myself if it was permissible, but it is _not_. You are precious to me, _âzyungâl_. I love you. Bilbo look at me," Thorin took his hands in his own. Bilbo did not look at him. "Bilbo, I need you to know that I would not deny you anything you did not wish, but what you ask is too much for me to grant at this time. Perhaps in the future, I can allow it, but right now, it is too much to ask."

Bilbo did not answer.

Thorin kissed both his hands, rubbing a thumb over Bilbo's skin.

"Will you at least eat? You'll need your strength for the journey, _âzyungâl_."

Bilbo bit his lip, thinking. The food did smell good and he was hungry, but he did not want to eat. Not as angry as he felt.

After a moment, he decided it would not do to nurse this anger and try to see Thorin's point of view.

He looked at Thorin. "You'd teach me if it was allowable?"

"I would, _âzyungâl_."

Bilbo tilted his head to the side. "Is that Khuzdul? '_Âzyungâl_'_?_" He asked.

Thorin smiled, kissing his hands again. "Yes. It means 'lover.'"

"It sounds better in Khuzdul."

"I think so too."


	5. Chapter 5

"You said your memory of me involved a bird, right?"

Thorin lifted his eyes from his nearly-empty bowl to Bilbo, who had finished his second bowl which now rested beside him on the ground. "Yes. Why?"

"Well, I don't remember the bird, but I don't know if I ever told you what I thought when I saw you the first time."

Bilbo watched Thorin furrow his brow. He shook his head. Bilbo readjusted his position and smiled. "You came to the Shire in July. The whole of Hobbiton was abuzz about a Dwarf Blacksmith in the area. Most weren't keen on the idea of a Dwarf being around, but no one would argue the mastery of the things he'd make. Most of us children were very curious and we'd often sneak over and watch you work. Whether you knew we did so, we don't know.

"I realized you never seemed to eat, at least not when I saw you so I thought to bring you something to eat once. The trick was getting enough courage to ask if you'd like something. I wasn't sure I'd be able to ask at all."

Thorin's face relaxed into a smile. "I remember. I'm afraid I don't remember what you offered…"

"Neither do I," Bilbo said, a soft chortle escaping his throat. "Picnicky things, for sure…"

Dwalin rolled his eyes, earning an elbow in the rib from Balin.

"I remember it was late summer. Awfully hot and the tomatoes were ripe for the picking. It was hotter inside the forge and I wondered how on earth you could stand the heat! Then you turned around and looked at me."

"You were squeaky when you asked."

Bilbo frowned. "I did not squeak."

Dwalin made gagging noises, earning another elbow in his rib from Balin.

"You squeaked."

"I resent that. I never squeaked in my life!"

"Every Hobbit I've met has squeaked at least once," Thorin laughed. "You were one of the squeakiest."

"I do not squeak!"

"You're squeaking now, lad," Balin said. Dwalin snorted again. Bilbo glared at them and opened his mouth to protest. A shriek stilled his tongue and he looked in the direction it came from.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Orcs," Dwalin said.

"They're far enough away," Balin assured Bilbo, who couldn't help cowering. "We won't be attacked."

"They're still too close for comfort," Dwalin grumbled.

"Be that as it may we can't go farther tonight. Not in the dark." Balin stood. "First watch, Dwalin?"

"Aye."

"Goodnight then."

"Goodnight," Bilbo said, hoping his trembling overlooked.

Dwalin moved away from the fire, wrapped in furs for warmth.

Thorin moved closer, wrapping an arm around Bilbo. "Are you cold? Or are you frightened?"

Bilbo swallowed, "A bit of both."

"You are safe with us, Bilbo," Thorin assured him. "I won't let anything happen to you, _âzyungâl_."

Bilbo nodded, pressing in closer to Thorin's side and, somehow, finding sleep.

#

_Bilbo turned the page of his book, lying on his stomach in the grass of East Farthing Wood. He bent his legs at the knees, kicking his legs a little bit while he read. _

_His ears perked up at the sound of a cart. He blinked toward the road. _

_Had Gandalf come?_

_He jumped up and carried his book with him, racing to the road. He stopped and hid behind a tree. It was not Gandalf. _

_Rather it was a dwarf driving a cart pulled by a wooly coated pony. The dwarf's long hair fell down his back. He wore two braids on either side of his head and his beard was shorter than Bilbo thought a Dwarfs' beard should be. _

_Most Dwarves liked to grow their beards large and full so to design them more intricately in many braids. _

_The Dwarf was humming a song under his breath. What the song was about, he could not say._

_The Dwarf had dark blue eyes, from what Bilbo could see. He followed the Dwarf for a little while as he headed to Hobbiton. Perhaps Bilbo could join him and introduce him. But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and feet kept him from moving forward._

_Bilbo thought him quite handsome, as far as Dwarves could be handsome. _

_Hobbits tended to like fairer things and Dwarves were not that fair to Hobbits. Rather, they seemed rough and calloused—nothing like the tall and graceful Elves._

_A bird sang a greeting and Bilbo looked up at it. A thrush?_

_The bird took flight, soaring in the same direction to Hobbiton. Had Bilbo looked, he may have seen a vague look of surprise on the Dwarf's face._

#

Bilbo wakes to the smell of stew. He sits up and yawns, staring at the roaring fire. Balin smiled at him. "Good morning," Bilbo yawned again.

"Good morning to you also, Master Baggins. Sleep well?"

Bilbo nodded, rubbing his eyes. "As well as can be on the ground. A bit better, even, I guess."

"Good to hear. Breakfast is almost served. Leftovers."

Dwalin snorted in his sleep. Bilbo covered his mouth and laughed, shoulders shaking.

"You'll get used to more snoring, I wager."

"No need to," Thorin announced, stepping out of the trees. "I _don't_ snore."

"Sure you don't," Balin teased.

Thorin rolled his eyes and glanced at Dwalin. "Dwalin, get up!" Dwalin ignored him, rolling over on to his side and pulling the covers up.

"Let him sleep a little more," Bilbo suggested. "He was up later than the rest of us."

"That's no excuse," Balin and Thorin said.

"We are to leave soon—"

"I'm up," Dwalin snapped. "I just don't want to _get_ up yet."

"You'll have to eventually," Balin snapped.

"I know." Dwalin stretched.

A shriek, closer than it was the previous night, brought him out of his bed, a hand wrapped around his war hammer. Thorin reached for his sword as did Balin. Bilbo jumped to his feet.

"That's _way_ too close for comfort," Dwalin growled.

"Leave the food, we have to go now!" Thorin ordered. Bilbo dove to pack his things. Thorin seized him and pulled him up. "No time!"

"But—"

"_There's no time_! Dwalin, protect Bilbo," Thorin shoved him to Dwalin, who seized Bilbo around the waist and hoisted him on to his shoulder. As they ran away from the camp, an Orc jumped on Thorin's back.

Bilbo didn't know if he screamed or not, but Dwalin set him down. "Climb!" he said. "Up in the trees! Now!" Bilbo jumped at a tree branch and scurried up it, hating how _useless_ he felt.

Three Orcs surrounded Dwalin and the tree. Dwalin brandished his axes. The Orcs rushed at him, trying to pile on top and rip at him. Bilbo closed his eyes, hating the fear pulling at him. Hating the sounds the Orcs made. And hating the weakness he felt.

He heard Dwalin roar and opened his eyes to see the Dwarf shove them off, his ax embedded in the torso of one Orc. He pushed the other two back beheading one of them.

Back at the camp, Bilbo could hear the clanging of steel on steel, the shrieking of Orcs, and the shouting of Thorin and Balin.

The two remaining Orcs at the base of the tree fell and died. Bilbo made to leave his perch.

"Stay there."

"But—"

"_Stay_. And keep hidden, for Mahal's sake!" Dwalin ran back to camp. Bilbo leaned against the trunk, frowning. _So useless. Why didn't you think to learn how to fight? You could help if you weren't so weak!_

"Bilbo?" Thorin shouted. Balin and Dwalin ran behind him.

_What good am I to them?_

"Bilbo?!"

_Am I really worthy—__That's enough of that!_ Bilbo snapped at himself. _Moaning and groaning over it won't change anything. Besides, this is something easily remedied. _"Up here!" he called. Thorin looked up and sighed. "I'll come down when you agree to teach me to fight so that I don't have to run off next time for safety."

Thorin frowned. "Bilbo, come down."

"Not until you agree to teach me to fight."

Thorin looked at Dwalin and Balin, both were smiling. He turned back to Bilbo. "Very well," he agreed. "I'll teach you to fight. And they're helping." The brothers' smiles faltered.

"Good. I'll be down soon." He began his descent. When he was close enough to the ground to risk jumping, he jumped. Thorin caught him in his arms. "If there's food left, we should eat it. There's still time for breakfast I wager."


	6. Chapter 6

The sword is heavy and clunky in Bilbo's hands.

Thorin held his in one hand.

Bilbo smiled sheepishly. "I don't think this one is going to do for me that well."

"You're strength will build," Thorin assured him. "Until then, it will be heavy. It will get lighter as time goes on. You'll learn to hold your own. For now," he took the sword from Bilbo's hands. "You don't need it and I don't really want you using it until you do, especially if you can barely lift it."

Thorin returned it to Balin, and sheathed his own. He tossed a pole to Bilbo, who managed to catch it.

"Ideally, we would work with practice swords, but I did not expect to teach you how to use one. So these will have to do until we reach Erebor and you can receive better training."

"I'm sure you're an able teacher."

Thorin beamed. "Thank you. But my teacher is Balin."

Balin raised his pipe in salute, smiling.

"This will be good review for me. And if I'm wrong…"

"He'll be back with the children first thing after we return," Balin concluded.

Dwalin snorted.

"Are you sure you want to teach him this first lesson? It may be easier if he is with someone who knows how to deal with beginners."

"I can handle the first lesson, Balin. Thank you. It would at least give you an idea where to begin with him."

"Already know: formation. He's a beginner, you may as well teach him a bit."

Thorin's grin became a smirk. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dwalin slapped his knee, laughing.

"Oi!" Bilbo shouted. "That's nice!"

"Thorin, you're being a child about this."

"No I'm not," Thorin snapped at him. "I can tease my fiancé if I like, can't I?"

"No," Balin and Bilbo said. Balin's tone was more scolding. Bilbo sounded more indignant.

"If you get to tease me, then I get to tease you," Bilbo countered. "And you don't seem the kind who takes teasing easily."

Thorin shrugged, smirking. "Perhaps I'd be more inclined to a little teasing if it came from you, dear Hobbit of mine."

"Flirt on your own time!" Dwalin snapped at them.

"Don't worry," Thorin said, swinging his slim branch around. "I'll go easy on you, Bilbo."

Bilbo bit his lip. "I'll hold you to that." He held his own branch in both hands.

Thorin circled him, eyes hard and cold as they appraised Bilbo. Bilbo felt like a cornered rabbit before a hungry wolf. He never let his eyes leave Thorin. Thorin charged. Bilbo moved to block, but Thorin feinted, slamming the branch against Bilbo's left flank. Bilbo yelped, jumping back, rubbing the injured area and glaring. "Oh c'mon, that didn't hurt!" Thorin laughed.

"Yes it did!" Bilbo shouted, glaring.

"That was a bloody love tap!"

"You call that a 'love tap'?"

"That wasn't even half his strength," Balin informed Bilbo.

Bilbo spun to look at Balin. Then back to Thorin, who was smirking.

_Oh boy_…

#Four Months Later#

The sun rose high over Esgaroth.

Bilbo stared at the Lonely Mountain, feeling anxious and jittery. He could not sleep the night before. Though Thorin was the king and he had assured Bilbo countless times he would be welcomed grandly in Erebor, Bilbo could not stave off his nerves.

He jumped at a knock at the door and he went to answer. Thorin stood in the doorway. He furrowed his brow. "Did you sleep? You look tired." Bilbo shook his head. "May I come in?" Bilbo nodded, stepping aside. Thorin entered and closed the door. "What is on your mind?"

Bilbo shrugged. "I'm anxious, that's all," he said, sitting on the bed.

Thorin sat beside him. "There is no need to feel anxious, _âzyungâl_," Thorin assured him. Bilbo twiddled his thumbs. "Bilbo?"

"I-I-I-I know you would have me assured and calmed, but I do not feel calm no matter what someone says to me. I'm not what they'll expect, am I? They expect me to be a Dwarrowdam and—"

"Bilbo, look at me," Thorin said, turning Bilbo's face to his. Thorin pressed his forehead to Bilbo's. "I understand your fear. I do, but I promise you there is nothing to worry about. I cannot control the beliefs of my people, but my family will adore you. I know they will."

"What about heirs?"

"Heirs were always out of the question for me," Thorin admitted. "I've known I did not care for women since I was very young. Also, my sister has sons of her own, so succession is not a problem and has not been for sixty-five years. Bilbo, _âzyungâl_, you need only to know that I love you."

Bilbo bit his lip. "You're certain?"

"I am," Thorin kissed his forehead. "And I have never been so sure of my choice. Mahal lead me to you, Bilbo. I am not going to let anything stand in the way of our happiness. Do you understand?"

"I do. I can't say I feel any better, but I trust you, Thorin. And I love you too."

Another knock at the door interrupted them.

"Breakfast is served," Dwalin said through the door. "Get down before Balin and I eat it all."

Thorin scowled at the door.

Bilbo smiled and stood, taking one of Thorin's hands in his. "Shall we try to beat them to the dining room?"

"I don't think my station would allow it."

"I would like to eat a proper Hobbit-sized meal before we arrive to Erebor."

The look on Thorin's face showed that he was biting back the retort that Bilbo would have plenty of Hobbit-sized meals once in Erebor.

#

Two great statues, guardians of the hall, stood aloft, carved in the side of the mountain. The gates are wide and nearly impossible to see, carved into the mountain. Everything is smooth stone.

Bilbo had never seen anything so majestic in his life. He stared at the entrance wide-eyed and mouth agape. The doors creaked open and trumpets sounded loud, announcing the return of their king. Once inside, a Dwarf approached them. Thorin dismounted his pony and approached him, arms wide.

"Welcome home, Brother," the Dwarf said, clapping Thorin's shoulders. Bilbo thought it a tender brotherly moment until they butted heads. He winced, though neither brother was hurt.

"Bilbo," Thorin said. "May I introduce my brother, Frerin."

Frerin tilted his head to the side, examining Bilbo. "I know you said you would not marry a Dwarrowdam, but…"

Thorin glared.

Frerin turned back to Bilbo, beaming. "Welcome to Erebor, Bilbo Baggins. I've wondered for a long time who you were, forgive my tone, I was expecting a Dwarrow. Thorin told us next to nothing. Thorin never said he'd be wedding a Fairy."

Thorin massaged his forehead.

Bilbo frowned. "I'm a Hobbit of the Shire, your highness."

"And you need to stop being so rude!" Another Dwarrow shouted, approaching. He slapped Frerin atop the head. He turned to Bilbo and _curtsied_.

"Welcome, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," he said.

"Bilbo, this is my sister, Dis."

Bilbo looked from Thorin to Dis, searching for the feminine qualities other than the curtsy.

"I beg your pardon, I thought you were a—"

"It's quite all right," Dis said, smiling, scratching her beard. "It happens more than you think. Come, we should let Thorin deal with Frerin, and I will show you to your rooms before my sons get here."

"Oh, please do," Thorin begged. "I'd rather he not meet Fili and Kili until a time when they can afford to be calm—"

"UNCLE THORIN!"

Thorin swore, when two more Dwarrows ran down the stairs and skidded to a halt before him.

"Where is he?" The blond demanded.

"Or were you going to sneak him off and not let us meet our Uncle-to-be?" The brunette asked.

"Fili, Kili," Dis said, "He's right here." The two turned around and stared at Bilbo. Mischievous grins lit their faces. They stood side by side.

"Fili," the blond began.

"And Kili," the brunette added.

"At your service," they said together, bowing to Bilbo.

Dis grinned. "See, Frerin. _That_ is how you greet a future member of the Durin clan. Come, Bilbo, before my sons get up to whatever trouble they have planned for you. Kili, go brush your hair."

"Mam!" Kili groaned.


	7. Chapter 7

"Will that be all, milord?" the Dwarf asks.

Bilbo nods, smiling at him. "Thank you, Bofur." Bofur bows on his way out.

Bilbo's "private rooms," which can only be code for "temporary rooms," is smooth stone, heated by a great, roaring fireplace in the corner. Glass doors block out the wind and cold. Curtains were held back by gold ropes. The four-poster bed is decked in linen blankets of dark blue. A table stands in the center of the room surrounded by six chairs. There is a vase of flowers resting on top of it.

Bilbo opened the glass doors and stepped out on to the stone veranda, high on the mountain. Bilbo stared at the pine trees surrounding. Perhaps he would be allowed to make a garden. He couldn't think of a reason for Thorin to refuse.

Pulled out of his thoughts from knocking at the door, Bilbo went to answer. Fili and Kili beamed at him. "Master Baggins," Fili began.

"We were wondering if we could offer our services as escorts for the time being," Kili added.

"Starting with lunch."

"Then a tour of the city."

"And then tea with our mother."

"After which we'll show you the mines."

"Which will take all afternoon leading to…"

"Dinner!"

The brothers grinned. Bilbo blinked. He shrugged. "I…sure…that would be nice—whoa!"

"Come on, we'll take the Riser," Kili said. "It's a dreadfully long way to the very top of the mountain."

"What?!" Bilbo said. He had no idea what a Riser was. And he wondered why they had to start at the top of the mountain.

"A Riser," Fili began, entering a small compartment. Kili pushed Bilbo inside and closed the iron gate, locking them in. "Is a device devised many years ago by some the Erebor's greatest and earliest engineers. You see, we have a lot of stairs, but it doesn't always go as fast as we need to and sometimes time is against us."

"A Riser, such as this one," Kili said, tugging on rope strapped to a pulley. Fili pulled the adjacent rope and the Riser began to move up toward the top of the mountain, "Allows at least three or four dwarves to get up and down the mountain faster than they'd be able to if they just took the stairs. There are…actually no one is sure how many Risers are in Erebor alone. Could be as many as fifty. Or a hundred."

"But they're wonderfully handy," Fili concluded. We'll reach the top in…say…"

"Fifteen minutes if we're fast enough."

"Doesn't it get tiring?"

"We're used to it," The brothers said in unison.

"Usually Dwarves will take rotations. Two pull for a while, then the third and, or fourth will take over to give them a break."

"We tend to ride them alone, so…we'll manage without breaks."

"Going down's usually easier. And faster."

"Ah." Bilbo didn't ask any more questions, unsure which of the thousands he should ask. When they reached the top, the brother's were red-cheeked and a small drop of sweat beaded Kili's brow.

"Welcome," Fili began, "to the Culinary Guild."

"Culinary Guild?"

"Yeah. Best pubs, inns, and eateries in all of Erebor are here. Most send food down to the other guilds for their lunches and so on."

"And if you can afford it," Kili said, smirking. "You can get meals from Bombur's."

They enter one of the pubs. Bilbo looked about. The floor was packed with Dwarves laughing, shouting, and drinking, though it was noon.

In the Shire, it was rare for drinking to begin until late in the evening.

The brothers were greeted loudly and every guest there was curious about Bilbo. A large, red-headed Dwarf brought large slabs of steak out for the three of them, "on the house," and offered bottomless beverages. After eating, and drinking as much as he was able, Bilbo had to fend off offers for more ale, not wanting to get inebriated too early.

The Dwarves trying to buy him a drink backed off when he promised to return later in the evening and drink with them as much as they'd like.

"Enjoying yourself so far?" Kili asked.

"Very much," Bilbo said, letting them lead him back to the Riser. "So this is the Culinary Guild…what's next?"

"That would be the other Guilds which takes up the next three levels," Fili said.

"That's where you get those of us who like to design things," Kili added. "Pottery, art, windows, jewelry…"

"Lots of interesting trinkets."

"It's the children's favorite place in the city."

The next three levels left Bilbo in awe.

There were wooden toys, toys made of metal and jewels, toys made of rock and stone…Jewelry made of various metals, stones, and jewels. There were necklaces of diamond, sapphire, and ruby. Earrings made of emerald and quartz. Gold bracelets, silver circlets, bronze rings…and hair clips. Hair clips made of light metals and heavy metals. Hair clips adorned in different jewels and stones. Hair clips with engraved images…

The fifth floor was a community bathing area. "The Royal family doesn't need to use them. We've our own bathing areas in our own rooms, so we don't have to come here," Fili said.

"But Fili and I like to join up here. More fun."

"I'm comfortable not seeing them, if they're community, thank you!" Bilbo said, blushing.

Kili opened his mouth to protest. Fili elbowed him. "We'll skip to the next level then. The sixth level is where we came from. It's where all the important events that Uncle Thorin takes care of. It's also where the royal family lives and offers rooms to other guests from the other kingdoms."

"So I guess I'll get a full tour of the sixth level?"

"Oh, yeah."

"We'll be back up at that level for tea with Mum in a couple of hours."

Bilbo frowned. "Wouldn't it be easier to tour the other levels, and then and look at level six _after _tea?"

The brothers looked at each other. "Sure," Fili agreed. "Level seven, then!"

"The Market."

Whereas on levels two through four were for crafters making and selling their goods, the market only allowed for selling, trading, and bartering for food, crafts, and clothes.

Bilbo wished he had brought his purse with him so to buy a few things. He had trouble remembering he was not a tourist, but soon to be a member of the royal family.

Fili and Kili, he decided, were excellent guides.

Level eight was the ground level where livestock were kept and cared for.

Horses, sheep, cattle, and fowls all resided here with their caretakers. Level eight was also the home of Erebor's army and guard stations.

And level nine was where the forges were kept.

"It's mostly weaponry made here," Fili said, "and tools."

"Can't have a functioning Dwarfish society without a few smithies, right?" Kili asked, grinning.

Bilbo mopped his forehead. "I have to agree—"

Fili pulled him back when a large kettle-like thing, red with heat passed them by, pushed by a very burly dwarf. He nodded his to Fili and Kili, who bowed back. Bilbo bowed in return, unsure what to do.

"Careful what you touch and where you go. Wouldn't want Uncle getting mad at us for letting you burn yourself."

Bilbo gulped. "Thanks."

"Not a problem."

"We should get back up," Kili said, looking at the clock on the stone wall. "It's almost time for tea and we're all sweaty. Mother would pitch a fit!"

"Yeah," Fili agreed. Bilbo let them drag him back to the Risers. His stomach gurgled. "How are you liking the tour so far?"

"I like it very much," Bilbo said, "Though memorizing all of this will be quite difficult. But remembering where to go for food and drink will be easy enough!"

"We don't always go up to level one. Just on special occasions."

"The arrival of the future Prince Consort is reason enough to celebrate."

"Most of the food travels down to the other levels."

"You already said that."

"Did we?" Fili asked.

"Must've forgotten," Kili mumbled, scratching his chin.

They entered the Riser and the two Dwarves already there began to pull ropes to bring them up to the higher levels. Bilbo began to feel relief when cooler air touched his skin.

"We'll take you back to your rooms and pick you up in a few minutes while we all freshen up," Fili promised.

"That sounds like a plan to me," Bilbo yawned. His stomach growled again rather loudly, and he blushed.

"I'm off here," one of the Dwarves pulling the rope said when they reached level seven. Kili took the rope from him.

"Have a nice day, Sir."

"Thank you, your highness."

Back on Level Six, Bilbo washed the sweat off his body vigorously. He didn't want to present himself to Dis smelling like the forges. Nor did it seem it would be proper to do so. He dressed in fresh clothes and dried his hair.

He was drying his feet when a knock came at the door. He frowned. It couldn't have been the boys. Bilbo felt they'd still be sprucing themselves up. He opened the door.


	8. Chapter 8

"Thorin, I wasn't expecting you," Bilbo said, stepping aside. Thorin entered, frowning. "Is something wrong?"

"You've had the whole city in a panic for nearly three hours," he informed him. Bilbo felt his stomach drop. "Where have you been?"

"I apologize. I had not known I caused such worry. Fili and Kili offered to have lunch and give me a tour. I had no reason to decline. And I was going to join them and Princess Dis for tea."

Bilbo recounted the last few hours to Thorin, leading up to his return for another bath. He did not understand why Thorin seemed so hurt in his eyes. "Have I done something offensive?"

"No. No, I had just…hoped to give you the same tour myself."

Bilbo's insides felt like stone. "Oh." He didn't know what to say or how to begin. He felt he should apologize, but there was nothing to apologize for. Was there?

"I am sorry I made you worry, Thorin. It was not my intent in the slightest."

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer. "I am not upset, _âzyungâl_. I am relieved you are all right, but I beg you not to do this again! I will often come by unexpectedly—"

"Then we'll have moments like this again unless I tell you if I have something planned?"

"Most likely."

"We could always use messenger birds. That way I can send you a note letting you know where I am. Though, I'd require the same from you, Thorin."

"No need. I'm almost always in the Throne Room. It's dreadfully boring."

"While I agree, you said _almost_. Meaning you aren't there all the time."

"Sometimes I visit the other levels. Most of the time," Thorin's smile returned. He took Bilbo's hands and pulled him closer. "I'll be seeking your company."

"Oh. Wonderful. I'm the honorary distraction."

"Yes you are." Thorin agreed, daring to steal a kiss. "And no King of Erebor has had a finer distraction."

"Isn't that a slight to your own mother?"

Thorin hummed. "I should choose my next words wisely then."

"You should unless you want to insult your own mother."

"Even though my mother was never able to be named Queen?"

"She's still your mother."

"Fair enough. I'll just shut up before I bring upon her vengeful ghost to tan my hide."

Bilbo grinned cheekily. "That will soon be my job, won't it?"

Thorin smirked. "You think?"

"Stop flirting! Please! Mahal above!" Fili shouted. Horror chilled Bilbo more than his shame at worrying Thorin. Thorin glared at him, biting back a snarl. Fili backed away. "Um…tea, anyone?"

"I could have some tea," Bilbo said, smiling. He turned to Thorin? "Would the king care to join us?"

"Just to make sure that my sister-sons get a good telling off from their mother."

Fili winced, leading the way. Kili was already in Dis' chambers, standing patiently with a straight back and hands clasped behind his back. Bilbo thought it odd how much he looked like Thorin standing so soberly.

"Mother?" Fili asked.

"Coming," Kili answered.

A door opened and Dis strode inside, gowned in a black dress covered in white furs. She looked between them and placed her hands on her hips. "May as well be the whole family if Thorin is going to join us."

"Frerin is busy, Dis," Thorin said, smirking. "He does not have time for tea."

"I know he was less than welcoming to Bilbo, but you never told him that he was a Hobbit like you told me," Dis snapped, poking Thorin's chest with her finger. She smiled at Bilbo. "I would like to know about your home, Bilbo, so we can make Erebor as pleasant for you as possible."

"Oh! Uh…of course, your highness."

"Either Dis or Sister, Bilbo. We will soon be family. I'd rather we started acting like one sooner than later."

Bilbo nodded and let Dis guide him to a seat. They sat around the table already laden with a teapot and biscuits. "So…the Shire…"

"Mm-hm," Dis said. Bilbo needed no more prompting. He told of the rolling hills, the bright, blue sky, the forests and rivers…everything that came to mind.

His new relatives, save Thorin, asked all kinds of questions. Thorin would occasionally add an observance of his own from his time as a blacksmith in Hobbiton.

One hour stretched to two. Two soon became four. Bilbo did not realize he was already homesick. He smiled, trying to hide it. A glance at Thorin told him he wasn't fooling everyone.

When they left, Thorin pulled Bilbo aside. "We will return to the Shire every so often, Bilbo, I promise you."

"I'm fine, Thorin."

"Bilbo, I am sorry. I should have realized you were homesick."

"I didn't notice myself," Bilbo said. "I am glad to be here, Thorin. And…if you think about it logically, my homesickness is only to be expected. Isn't it?"

Thorin tilted his head to the side. "Does thinking _logically_ help you?"

Bilbo blinked. "I'm…not really sure. I hadn't really given it much thought, but…yeah. I guess it does help a little bit. I have to live in a mountain now. It's much bigger than a Hobbit Hole, but if I think about it…it's not _that_ different. It's just…rather than a house, it's a whole City-State. Right?"

Thorin nodded. "Is that an adjustment too big?"

"An adjustment too big would be learning to live with Elves or Men who tower over me far more than Dwarves do."

Thorin smiled. "That is very true."

"You're happier over the fact I'd rather live with Dwarves than Elves, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Typical," Bilbo mumbled, rolling his eyes. A smile played on his lips. It grew at Thorin's glare until he was laughing. "I know you well, my _âzyungâl_."

Thorin's gaze darkened. Bilbo's smile fell, wondering if he had made a mistake uttering the only Khuzdul word he knew.

"Would it be better if I don't say that word?" he asked. "I mean…I know it's your name for me, but I don't see why I can't use it also."

Thorin seized his shoulders, crashing his lips to Bilbo's.

"Thorin Oakenshield!"

Bilbo pushed Thorin away, blushing madly and covering his smile. Dis stormed over to them.

"I did nothing wrong."

"You're wedding is in a month. I am asking you to control yourself_ somewhat_."

"I was just a kiss, Sister mine!"

"That was a little more than 'just a kiss'," Dis snapped, flicking his ear. Thorin hissed and rubbed the offending ear. "If you're caught again, I will personally play chaperone."

Thorin's fury ebbed to horror. "You wouldn't."

Dis smirked. "I would."

Thorin turned to Bilbo. "Be glad you have no siblings. Especially sisters. They would be the bane of you as they have me!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Bilbo slipped away while the argument ensued. He didn't want to be caught in a sibling squabble. He saw enough of them to know that when siblings get into arguments, they _really_ get into arguments and it was best to just slip away so not to get roped in.

#

"_My Dad thinks you're bad news." _

_Thorin paused, hand halfway to his mouth with a muffin. "Why?"_

"_He said something about you being in a war and that that's not respectable," Bilbo explained, stretching. "But Mum said that war doesn't make another bad, just experienced and knowledgeable. She did say that sometimes war breeds bad behavior. It makes some people sick."_

"_You're mother is right," Thorin said. "Thankfully, while I have fought in a war or two, I have not become one of them. It may be unrespectable to proper Hobbits like your father, Bilbo, but to the Elves, Men, and Dwarves, a man who has been to war is a way of measuring one's worth__."_

"_So do the Hobbit-men seem less like men to you?"_

"_Not at all. War need not be with another kingdom. I find a war fought against weeds just as important as a war against Orcs. Just because it is fought with a spade and not with a sword doesn't make it any less honorable. Otherwise, the beautiful gardens at Bag End and the surrounding neighbors would suffer."_

_Bilbo laughed. "That is an ongoing war in of itself, sure enough."_

_Thorin nodded. "To be honest, I'm jealous of your people, Bilbo, for never knowing war or hardship. You've been blessed here."_

"_Blessed? Or cursed? I think we're too soft and safe. That can't be right."_

_Thorin bit into the muffin, watching Bilbo. Bilbo lay on his back, hands cradling his head and staring at the blue sky. "Why do you think being safe is wrong?"_

"_It's not that it's _wrong_," Bilbo said. "It's that I feel trapped here and that is wrong. I wish I were a Dwarf. Or anything but a Hobbit. Then I could be go anywhere I want and not have to bother with it."_

"_You wouldn't be allowed to wander anywhere you like, little Hobbit," Thorin said. "Dwarrows are protective of their young. You think you're molly-coddled here? If you were Dwarrow, you would be unable to go anywhere without an adult present."_

"_But—"_

"_You're life here is much better, Bilbo. I wouldn't dismiss it so easily."_

_Bilbo turned on his side and faced Thorin. "Okay, so I can't do anything now because I'm still a child. I know that. But…what about when I'm older? I'll be an adult in a couple decades. Can I travel then?"_

_Thorin nodded. "You're parents may not like it, but you will be able to travel anywhere you wish."_

"_Then I'll travel to the Seven Kingdoms," Bilbo decided, sitting up. Thorin arched an eyebrow. "I'll visit Ered Luin, and Ered Mithrin, and Erebor, and Ered Engrin, and Ered Lithui and—"_

"_That's quite the journey!" Thorin laughed. "Though I think Ered Lithui is too far and too dangerous."_

_Bilbo shrugged, picking up a strawberry and pushing it past his lips. _


	9. Chapter 9

Bilbo wasn't sure he liked silk breeches. They seemed too thin for the mountain. They were black, a stark contrast against the white silk shirt he wore. The dark blue robes that would cover it were of a thicker material.

Dori pinned the fabric above Bilbo's ankles.

"Is all this fine fabric really necessary?"

"Well," Dori chuckled. "You _are_ marrying the king. You should look your best."

"I guess that's true."

The door opened and Bofur entered with a box in hand. He grinned. "Yeh know, m'lord, I think red would look better on you than blue."

Dori shot him a look.

Bilbo shrugged, nodding. A smile played on his lips. "It does, but blue's not too bad, do you think?"

"No, not bad, just not you."

Dori rolled his eyes. "Master Bofur, you are being rude to King Thorin's intended!"

"How is he being rude?" Bilbo asked.

"Yeah, how am I being rude? He could've been a prissy, stuck up Son-of-an-Orc."

Bilbo winced. "Thank goodness I'm not! I'll let my mother know she raised me right." Dori sighed, shaking his head.

"You're jokes need some work, m'lord."

"Well, I've the best servant to teach me, don't I?"

"The two of you are bonding a little too well."

"Why?" Bofur asked. "Because we trade jokes and I leave dead fish in his cabinet?"

Bilbo's smile vanished. "You what?!"

Bofur grinned. "That is the glove of the prank war, m'lord. Bring it."

"Oh, I will."

"You've been hanging out with Fili and Kili far too much, m'lord," Dori muttered, shaking his head. "Partaking in a prank war is quite beneath the Consort of the King."

"But not the heirs?" Bilbo asked.

"Well…" Dori bit his lip. "How high do you want that collar?"

"Collar's fine the way it is, I think," Bilbo said, smiling. He turned to Bofur. "What's in the box?"

"A gift from his majesty the king," he answered, approaching and opening the box. Gold and sapphire jewelry shone back at Bilbo. He wrinkled his nose.

"It's a bit extravagant."

"You're getting married. Extravagance is one of the perks," Bofur smirked. "Though I'm not sure the gold will show in your hair."

"It's dark enough," Bilbo assured him, "and while I have grown my hair out a little bit, it's not grown out _that_ much. Are you sure my hair's long enough for more braids?"

Bofur examined the golden tresses. He nodded. "They're long enough for the braids that will be woven into your hair during the ceremony, though we'll need to pierce your ears beforehand for the earrings. Though, if you like, I'm sure the King wouldn't mind having rubies in there instead."

Bilbo shuddered. Hobbits never wear jewelry in their ears due to their sensitivity.

"I think I'll be fine with the sapphires over the rubies, Bofur. Thanks."

"If you say so, m'lord."

"I think that will do for now," Dori said, removing the robes from Bilbo's shoulders. Bofur closed the box and set it aside. "We'll make more adjustments, but for now should we send for food to be brought?"

"Yes, please."

#

"_Why didn't you come to the wedding?" Bilbo asked, latching onto Thorin's thick arm. _

_Thorin pulled him up, dangling Bilbo. _

_Bilbo kicked his feet, adjusting for a better grip. _

"_Weren't you invited?"_

"_I was. I declined."_

"_Why?" _

_Thorin chuckled. _

"_Weddings are held between friends and family. I'm not a friend of the Bride or the Groom. I didn't feel it my place to attend."_

"_They invited you, so they must consider you a friend at least."_

"_It was my choice to attend or not." He set Bilbo down. "Why did you skip out? I know you were there. You're wearing the vests you hate so much and everything."_

_Bilbo scowled. _"_I stayed long enough for the ceremony. All that's left is eating, drinking, and dancing. None of which is fun without you there."_

_Thorin laughed. "You think so?"_

"_I know so."_

#

Bilbo yawned, leaning on the balcony rail. The sky was grey-blue and the sun was just beginning to climb the East horizon.

"Do you like the view?"

He turned to Thorin. Bilbo nodded. "It's a wonderful view. Are we allowed to see each other so close to the wedding?"

"I don't know. Nor do I care."

Bilbo shook his head. "Should a king shirk tradition?"

Thorin arched an eyebrow. "I'm getting married to another male who is not a dwarf. I think tradition has _long_ been out."

"I'm not sure how good of a point that is, but I'll bite."

The gates opened. Thorin leaned on the rail. "Our Justice of the Peace has arrived," he said. Bilbo looked at the ground.

"Where?"

"See that cart?" Thorin pointed at a mare-pulled cart. Bilbo furrowed his brow. Thorin grinned. "Ever meet a wizard?"

Bilbo blinked. "Wizard?"

"There aren't many who can marry a King to someone. There are priests and there are Wizards. Tharkun is an old friend."

"I know Gandalf. He's a friend of my grandfather's. I've never heard of Tharkun."

Thorin blinked. He laughed. "Bilbo, Tharkun _is_ Gandalf. It's the name we give him."

"You're lying."

"I promise I'm not."

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Shall we wager on it then?"

"Might as well. Shall we go greet our Wizard friend, my love?"

"Very well," Bilbo agreed.

Thorin straightened and they walked down the stairs.

Gandalf's smile vanished, but it returned brighter than before. "Well, this is unexpected, but delightful nevertheless," he greeted. Gandalf bowed to Thorin. "Hail Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain."

"It has been too long, my friend," Thorin greeted. "May I introduce my fiancé, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

"It is good to see you again, Gandalf," Bilbo said. "Though I'm afraid you lost me a bet."

"What do you mean?"

Thorin smirked. "Bilbo didn't believe me when I named you to him as Tharkun when we spied you entering the mountain."

Gandalf shook his head. "I was worried about you for a long time, Thorin. I am glad to find my worry unfounded. A Hobbit and a Dwarf…I'm interested to see where this will lead. Bilbo! I would like to speak to you in private. I have letters from your family—"

"Oh!" Bilbo cried, his hands grasping his hair. "I completely forgot!"

"It's quite all right, I'm sure they'll be well to get a lengthy answer detailing how you find life in Erebor."

"Mum's probably been losing her mind! And Dad…" Thorin was trying, and failing, at not laughing. Bilbo slapped his arm. "It's not funny, Thorin!"

"I'm afraid it is, _âzyungâl_," Thorin chuckled. "It is very funny."

Bilbo shook his head. "It's been rather busy, I'm afraid, but if you're free for tea, Gandalf, we can meet then."

"Of course, Master Baggins," Gandalf said, pushing his sleeves up. "Tea would be most delightful."


	10. Chapter 10

Bilbo hands Gandalf a cup.

"How are my parents in the Shire?" he asked.

"Quite well," Gandalf assured him. "They miss you and are worried they had not heard from you. I suggest writing an account of your journey and wedding after the mayhem is done. It will put your mother's mind at ease at least."

"Well that makes it easier," Bilbo said, sighing. "I'd have written a letter earlier, but I've been sidetracked."

"Because of the wedding?"

"Lately, yes, but earlier it was more two…things named Fili and Kili."

Gandalf smiled.

"You're future nephews. Why am I not surprised? The two of them will open portals to the Abyss if they could do so with the mischief they cause."

"I'm sure they could. Thorin seems to have a firm hold on them."

"And he should. By name he is their uncle, but he is the closest thing to a father they've ever known."

Bilbo lowered the tea cup.

"I didn't know."

Gandalf nodded.

"Their father died soon after Kili was born. Frerin is more politician than Thorin, who is a stern warrior. Both did what they could for the boys. Simply put, Thorin had more time to spare, despite how busy he was. However, they are now old enough to not need the guidance of a father."

Bilbo sipped the cooling tea, deep in thought.

"But his time in Ered Luin…in Hobbiton even—"

"He would go to Ered Luin every two years, stay one, and return."

"Why?"

"Well, I suppose he was looking for you," Gandalf said, lighting a pipe. "It is tradition to the line of Durin that when the eldest son is old enough to travel alone, he is to look to the land and choose a place to go and find his bride. Now, once in a while, a son may not prefer women. It is rare, but not impossible; rarer still that they find their One among another race of peoples."

Bilbo set the cup down.

"So now what?"

"Are you happy with Thorin?"

"Yes."

"Are you really?"

Bilbo frowned. "Yes. Why are you second-guessing me?"

"I do not mean to. You do not seem confident."

"I have left the Shire to live in a Mountain-Kingdom and am to be married to the King of this Mountain. Though I do love Thorin, confidence may be a little hard to come by."

Gandalf hummed, blowing a smoky deer out of his mouth. The stag pranced about the room before ramming into the wall and changing to nothing. "Something ails you, but you've pushed it down. You are ignoring something important."

"_The word of a child means nothing to me. I won't hold you to it. Go home where you belong and stay there. I'm done entertaining a brat."_

Bilbo shook his head. "It was a long time ago," he said. "It is of no importance."

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

"Because you know," Gandalf sniffed. Smoke poured out his nose. "Words are very powerful. When they are used as a weapon and when they are weapons meant to protect one they sometimes end up hurting the one they try to protect."

"I am well aware."

"Are you? It seems you are still affected by what Thorin told you all those years ago."

"I've forgiven him."

"So I see. However, Bilbo, forgiveness is not easy to give. I don't want you to enter a marriage unless you can say to all who know of that day—and yes, I know it, Thorin told me so do not look so surprised—you have forgiven him."

Bilbo sighed.

"It does hurt, remembering it, and I had been angry for a long time. But I understand why he said what he did. That doesn't make it easier to deal with, but I do understand. If our roles had been reversed, I may have done the same."

Gandalf hummed again.

"So you believe you have forgiven him fully but that won't stop the memory of that day from bothering you."

"Yes. And it may always bother me. But I don't dwell on it. Not even back then did I ever dwell on it. I don't think I'd be here in Erebor today if I let it hurt me. Remembering that I'm here now and to be married in…two days…is good enough. My goodness! I didn't realize it was so close! And to think," Bilbo shuddered. "I still need to get my ears pierced."

Gandalf smiled. "Well, I suppose I speak as a dottering old man, excited as you are for your wedding."

"Clearly."

"You're not supposed to agree Bilbo."

#

Bilbo does not feel nervous.

At least he doesn't think he feels nervous.

And yet he is inattentive. Every five minutes, he feels he must apologize for running into someone and knocking whatever it was they had in their hand out.

He stubbed his toe and forgot to open the door before him.

So he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he _was_ nervous. He couldn't really blame himself for it, though.

Right?

The ceremonial robes were ready and all that was left was for his ears to be pierced.

Bilbo was not looking forward to that, but had sit as still as he could for Dori while he subjected his ears to the pain of the needle threading through the right lobe four times once in the left.

Dori advised him against rubbing the pinched and itching lobes now decorated in sapphire and gold earrings until the wedding when they would be replaced with the jewelry Thorin made for him.

Bilbo made sure to let Thorin know that, after this, he would never wear earrings again.

Thorin had laughed, but agreed when he compromised to decorate Bilbo's fingers, wrists and neck instead.

After that, Dis had shooed Thorin away, swatting him with a handkerchief. When that had failed, she decided to sic Fili and Kili on Bilbo.

Bilbo fidgeted in front of the vanity as Dori threaded beads in his hair.

His clothes weren't restricting on his throat, but he felt a pressure behind his Adam's apple and he was overcome with a ferocious thirst water couldn't seem to quench.

The gold circlet held a dark blue cut sapphire in its center. It fit snuggly around his head, almost resting where it did. Bilbo feared that it'd fall off with a tip of his head, but that proved not to be the case.

The first necklace was wrought of gold, and made to drape around his neck. The second was a gold chain decorated with sapphire and jade beads.

Two gold rings decorated his left hand, one on his index finger and the second on his pinky.

Finally the earrings slid easily through his ears.

The first two were heavy, made of sapphire, jade, and gold. The gold-arrow shaped ends brushed against his neck whenever he turned his head.

The second earring was threaded into his right ear. It was simply a gold ring with a small stem connected by a small chain—which was connected to two gold ear loops which pinched through the third and fourth holes.

_Yep_, Bilbo thought, _after this I'm __never__ wearing earrings again._

"And now you're ready, my lord," Dori said, stepping aside.

Bilbo stood. He felt overdressed, but passed it away. It was his wedding. Being overdressed may as well be quite appropriate.

He turned to Dori and grinned.

"Thank you for all your help," he said. "Any advice for my nerves?"

"Sadly, I think nerves are the least of your problems, Lord Bilbo." Dori stroked his beard. "I can tell you this much: you don't have it easy."

Bilbo frowned.

"Big help you are."

There was a knock at the door.

Dori opened it and stepped aside for Dis. She smiled.

"You look beautiful, Bilbo."

Bilbo wasn't sure how he liked being called beautiful, but he took the compliment anyway with a smile.

"I guess there isn't time for a little whiskey or mead to calm my nerves?"

"Sadly, no," she said. "It'd be best for you to be as sober as possible."

She leads him down to the main hall.

"Too bad. I'm shaking so badly, it's a miracle I'm still able to talk."

"I think you'll be fine."

"Not helping."

Dis stopped him and went on before him, holding herself with the regality of a queen more than a princess.

Bilbo fidgeted with the ring on his index, scared to look elsewhere but his feet and the door.

When the doors opened with a crack, he feared he could not move.

Then he put one foot in front of the other, looking surer of himself than he felt.

He could feel every pair of eyes on him. He tried to ignore them. He stopped beside Thorin, who offered his hand.

Bilbo took it and they turned to Gandalf.


	11. Chapter 11

"I bless thee," Gandalf tied a silk rope around their wrists, "in unity and equality. I charge thee in honor and humility." He raises a silver cup. "With this cup, I honor thy union." He handed it to Thorin, who took it in his free hand and raised it to his lips before handing it to Bilbo. The liquid was dark red and glinted in the cup. Bilbo tilted the cup until the wine touched his lips and he took a small sip before returning it to Gandalf.

Frerin handed Thorin a clasp. Bilbo turned his head to the left so to let Thorin braid his hair. "In the Shire I found thee," he began, "Thy wondrous beauty, thy kindness, thy softness drew my heart to thee and named thee One, Heart, and Treasure." He snapped the clasp in place.

Bilbo swallowed, begging he did not forget his vows as Dis handed him the clasp he was to braid in Thorin's hair. "When we met, I was a child," he began (_that is how it began, right? Oh…_). "Thy patience and thy strength drew my heart to thee and I named thee One, Heart, and Treasure." The clasp pinched his skin a little when it closed around Thorin's lock, but it wasn't all that painful.

"In peace and war, in good or ill, may Mahal the Creator smile on thee," Gandalf concluded. "Long Life to the King and the Prince Consort Under the Mountain."

Amidst the cheering, as Thorin led him away, Bilbo felt a change overtake him.

Married…to call another his spouse…Bilbo wasn't sure he felt more anxious or excited…

"LAST ONE STANDING WINS!" Fili shouted.

"YOU'LL EAT MY DUST BOY!" Dwalin replied.

And those were just snippets in the entire hall which roared with laughter, dancing, and shouting. Eating was on the agenda too, but only those who were really hungry cared to dine.

Bilbo was lead in several dances with various lords and ladies wishing him congratulations on his new title. He thanked them politely, always smiling.

"You seem tired," Thorin said after stealing him away from Lord Dain.

"I've not had a chance to break away from all the dancing," Bilbo admitted. "I'm rather hungry, but refusing them or promising to dance with them later seemed rude."

"Bilbo, you're the Prince Consort now, if you need to escape to eat then by all means do so," Thorin said, leading him off the floor. "I don't want the Seven Kingdoms running about in a panic because you fainted."

Bilbo hummed. "That would be bad, wouldn't it…"

Thorin kissed his cheek. "It would be. Now eat."

"Okay."

Thorin sat beside him, raising a mug to his lips. "Will you often be this compliant?"

"Oh, I doubt it," Bilbo said, lifting a turkey leg with both hands.

"That's nice."

"Well, why should I make it too easy?" Bilbo asked innocently, grinning. He took a bite of turkey. Dis screamed at Fili and Kili when food flew overhead. Thorin closed his eyes, sighing. Bilbo ignored the flying food save for a moment of regret at the waste.

Still, so long as his plate wasn't stolen from him, he was good.

#

The door closed behind them with a bang.

Thorin pushed Bilbo to the bed, removing the clothes covering him.

Bilbo's fingers moved likewise against Thorin's robes.

The jewelry, save Bilbo's earrings, clattered on the floor. Thorin kissed Bilbo's stomach, pulling off Bilbo's trousers and small clothes before aiding Bilbo in the removal of the rest of his own clothes.

"Have you a preference, _âzyungâl_?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I've never…"

"Ah. To be honest, neither have I," Thorin leaned down to kiss his neck. "But, well, curiosity can be a good motivator to learn the theory and practice on oneself."

Bilbo chuckled. "Well that I've done…" He blushed, "But I've never thought about whether I'd…top or bottom. I always figured I'd be bottoming."

"Would you like to top?"

Bilbo thought about it. "What about yourself?"

"It'd be easier to not even have this discussion and just fuck you."

Bilbo kissed him, darting his tongue over Thorin's lips. Thorin's large, calloused hand slid over Bilbo's crotch. Bilbo hissed, biting Thorin's lip. He spread his legs, his right thigh pressed against Thorin's. Thorin's hand curled around Bilbo's cock and pulled, sliding his hand up to the head. Bilbo moaned into Thorin's mouth, bucking his hips. His length hardened slowly in Thorin's grasp. Bilbo whined when Thorin released his cock and broke the kiss.

"Turn over," he demanded, reaching for the oil.

Bilbo complied, deciding it might be easier of he propped his legs up, aiming his ass in the air. He did his best to keep relaxed while in this position. He felt cool oil spill over his backside. Bilbo shivered as Thorin caught the running liquid trailing down his back with his fingers and slide the appendages back up over Bilbo's ass. Thorin spread the cheeks and pressed a finger to the hole. Bilbo shuddered, pushing back on it until the appendage was inside him.

"Right, haven't done this before," Thorin teased.

"Like you haven't either," Bilbo tried to snap. His voice came out hazy and thick instead. "I'm sure you fingered yourself at least. I have." Thorin kissed a cheek. Bilbo tensed. "Don't do that!"

"Why not?" Thorin asked, twisting his wrist around. "You have a pleasant arse."

"Shut up about my arse…"

Thorin chuckled, squeezing in a second finger. "Mahal! You're tight!"

"Sorry for not thinking about this earlier, then."

Bilbo's comment was met with silence.

"We're going to have a lot of conversations such as this, aren't we?"

Bilbo pushed back on Thorin's fingers, giving him the go ahead to stretch him. "Probably." Thorin pushed against the muscular walls of Bilbo's hole as carefully as he could. Bilbo hissed. "Ow."

Thorin paused. "You okay?"

"Yes…give me a moment…" Bilbo focused on breathing for a minute. "Okay. Go." Thorin obliged. He squeezed in a third.

Bilbo wished Thorin would hurry up. His cock ached and he was sure his fingernails were digging into the flesh of his palms through the sheets he clutched in his fists trying to keep from coming. Thorin pulled out. Bilbo whimpered, wishing for the finger's warmth again. He felt something brush against his hole. It dragged across the skin, poking at his entrance. Bilbo shivered, moaning. He bit his lip, begging himself to keep control. Some control. Just enough to keep from coming…

The warmth and wetness of vanished. "Realax _âzyungâl_," Thorin whispered.

Another thing pressed against Bilbo this time and protruded far inside him. He gasped loudly. Thorin clutched Bilbo's hips in a vice grip. "Fuck," Thorin hissed, along with several other words Bilbo could not identify. He guessed they were Khuzdul.

"Thorin?"

Thorin rested his head between his shoulders, kissing the skin. Then he moved. Slow, deliberate thrusts sent sparks of pleasure through Bilbo. His voice escaped in short gasps becoming moans, encouraging Thorin to pick up his pace—

Bilbo screamed, seeing stars. Seed spilled out over him. Thorin pounded that spot repeatedly, drawing out the scream, still growling in Khuzdul. Bilbo bit the pillow to try and muffle his screaming. He felt something shoot inside him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Thorin untangled himself from Bilbo, rolling onto his back. Bilbo turned to face him, watching him. Thorin's eyes were closed. Bilbo shifted a little closer and kissed Thorin.

Thorin wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. "I will be damned if we don't do that again soon," Bilbo said, kissing his husband's breast.

_Husband! _Bilbo thought, his heart skipped a beat. _I have a husband!_

"Agreed, but not _now_. My stamina's not _that_ great."

Bilbo chuckled, kissing Thorin's rib. "We'll have to get creative then." Thorin sat up on shaky arms, smirking. Bilbo blinked at him as innocently as he could manage.

"I'm sure we can get creative," Thorin said. "Say, tomorrow morning?"

"I'm sure they'll leave us alone for a lot longer than a morning," Bilbo said, grinning.

"They better."


	12. Chapter 12

They had been granted two weeks.

Then it was time to work again.

Thorin was not very keen on it, so Bilbo found more than once he had to prod Thorin to get to the court room.

"Did he ever used to act like this?" Bilbo asked Dis during tea. "I literally have to throw him into the court room. It's not an easy feat!"

"No. I daresay it's not," Dis said, smiling. "But you manage it well enough. Thorin listens to you and adores you. To be honest, when I heard about you, Bilbo, I had my doubts."

Bilbo slumped. "Oh. You're confidence is kind."

"Well, I was worried because Hobbits do not grow up in the same culture and they have different values."

Bilbo nodded. It was inevitably true.

"However, I was proven wrong and I am glad I was. More tea?"

"Please. You know, while I do enjoy our chats, Dis, I sort of…feel…useless. I wish there was more I could do. I understand if you refuse, but would it be too much to ask if I could learn Khuzdul?"

Dis almost dropped the cup.

"I wouldn't abuse it, if that's your fear. It just seems ridiculous to be the consort and yet be ignorant of the culture belonging to the kingdom I am consort to."

Dis hummed. "That makes sense. You do realize that to do that I would have to teach you more than just the language. Our culture is very complicated and we follow various different rules and rituals laid down long ago even before the Dwarf Kings came to light."

"I understand that."

Dis appraised him. "I'm not sure you do. You would be completely giving up your own culture and beliefs to embrace ours. We understand that is hard and not many are willing to take that plunge. Besides, Khuzdul is holy, that is why we are so protective of it and our culture."

"I understand."

"Try asking Thorin. He would be a better judge."

"I already did. He refused."

"As he should, I suppose. I suggest it would work better to get to know the people first." She smiled. "Then when they trust you as dearly as they do their king, ask again."

#

"And that," Bilbo says, jumping off the table while the applauses bite his ears, "is a basic jig. Very simple, quite fun, and never gets old."

A few try to attempt it, but the older dwarves aren't as limber and have a hard time keeping up with the movements.

One named Oin keeps griping on about his joints.

"Get the Prince a drink!" a dwarf shouts, clapping his back.

Another mug of ale presses into Bilbo's hands. Bofur is on guard. He comes in.

"King's coming!" He shouts.

"Good, he can join us," Bilbo shouts.

The doors open and Thorin strides in.

"Come have a drink, Thorin."

"Bilbo, what are you doing?"

"Socializing. Bofur's here too, if you haven't noticed."

"I have. I thought we agreed you wouldn't sneak off."

"I didn't sneak off. I left a note. That's not sneaking," he counters, raising the mug to his lips and taking a long drink.

Thorin sat beside him.

"There are other ways to socialize."

"I know," Bilbo set the mug down, "but do any other way involve getting to know the people. Even if it's accepted on the surface, I'm sure it may take a while for me to really be accepted. I figured it'd be easier to start with—"

"The commoners?"

Bilbo pursed his lips.

"Well, yes. If you want to say that. I would have said the people. They're the ones whose opinion matter's more than the nobility, Thorin."

Thorin nodded. "This wouldn't have to do with an attempt to get them to trust you enough so they demand you be allowed to learn Khuzdul?" he whispered.

Bilbo blinked, "And if it is?"

"I thought we were at an accord."

"We are, you said you couldn't teach me because my ability to respect the language was in question. This will take care of it, won't it?"

"I don't know if it's that simple."

"Thorin, I'm going to live here. I don't want to be ostracized because I'm a Hobbit among the Dwarves."

"You won't be."

"I _will _be," Bilbo corrected. "I doubt everyone is happy that I have become the Prince Consort, even if they hide it well enough. I wish I had your optimism, but I would rather be rational than optimistic, Love."

Thorin ran his hand through his hair. "You are determined."

Bilbo grinned. "And I will not be swayed."

Thorin let his hand drop. He scratched his chin. "Another thing that could help you may be practicing our faith. It may require conversion, but that is simple enough."

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad that you want to know the people? It's wise. Some are very religious and look to the Royal Family to follow our faith very strictly. If you would have me teach you…"

"I would like that." Bilbo beamed. It was going faster than he thought. "Now you came in search of me. Do you require my company somewhere?"

"Not somewhere. Just your company."

"Then we best be off." Bilbo stood and set a couple coins on the counter. "Thanks for the meal, Bombur."

"You're quite welcome, your highness," Bombur boomed.

Bilbo bade goodbye to the others and followed Thorin out.

Dwalin and Bofur were conversing about…something.

"Bofur, Dwalin, we're leaving," Thorin snapped.

"Right," Bofur said.

He and Dwalin walked behind their respective lord.

"Oh! M'lord Bilbo, the brothers Ri agreed to have tea tomorrow afternoon instead."

"That's fine," Bilbo said, turning to look at Bofur, grinning. "My afternoon just got taken up."

"Over sharing, my lord!"

#

Bilbo felt he had entered into a new world entirely as Thorin led an evening prayer in Erebor's temple.

Bilbo had been to different shrines to different Valar in his life, but he had never seen a temple before. The room was dark and large. Candles were the only light in the incense stinking room.

Thorin did not venture past the curtain separating them from Mahal's alter on the other side of it.

Bilbo adjusted the blue prayer shawl over his head again, rubbing a tassel between his thumb and forefinger.

He and Thorin were the only ones in the temple.

The people prayed outside.

Thorin knelt down to his knees. Bilbo mimicked him, keeping an eye on Thorin, who touched his forehead to the ground. Bilbo did the same.

Every so often he'd glance up for the next queue Thorin would send him, hoping it wasn't rude to do so.

Thorin stood, as did Bilbo.

He offered a prayer in Khuzdul, raising his hands up as though offering something to Mahal which Bilbo could not fathom.

"Father, permit me use of the Common Tongue," he said. "So that my One may know and learn your edict. He desires to learn your ways. I ask again, will you not allow it? If it is to be, I know you it will happen in time, whether it be soon or long. In your name, ámin."*

They left the temple.

Bilbo did what he could to ignore some of the whispers from those outside. He could not tell what said was prayer and what said was gossip anyway.

"Is that all?"

"It's all that can be done for now. If it is meant to be, then it will be, Mahal willing," Thorin said, taking Bilbo's hand in his and kissing it. "I hope that it can be done. I agree you should learn, and it seems Dis does as well. But as I have told you, it cannot be done without there being absolute surety."

"And how will we know?"

Thorin shrugs.

Bilbo isn't sure he likes the bleakness of Thorin's answer. It seemed so unsure and filled Bilbo with doubt.

"What next?"

"Dinner."

Bilbo grinned. "Good. I'm famished."

Thorin returned the smile. "I thought you might be."

* * *

* ámin is made up, and a variation of amen, which means "God willing" or something like that…

About Bilbo's decision to worship Mahal: It will start as a reason to get the people to insist he learn Khuzdul, but he will eventually convert to this faith one hundred percent. Because of the Dwarves' similarities to Judaism, there will be several references to Judaism as I know it (meaning the Judaic culture that Christ and his predecessors practiced). One being the Shroud and the Holy of Holies, presented here. The Shroud was a curtain which separated the Holy of Holies where only one priest could go into per year. Thorin's roll is both King and High Priest, which is unusual as the King of Israel normally held only political power. I decide to make Thorin also High Priest because of my faith as a Christian where the King (Jesus) is also the High Priest. Normally, Bilbo would not be allowed in the temple as he is a "gentile" (normally meaning non-Jew, here, non-Dwarf), but the Dwarfish worship of Mahal is less strict here (a Christian practice of all inclusiveness: all is welcome who wants to come) so he can come so long as he has a prayer shawl (which Thorin lends him). Yeah. I take some liberties…if there are any inconsistencies or if I am wrong somewhere PLEASE correct me! Thanks.


	13. Chapter 13

~Six Months Later~

_Bilbo Geronius Baggins, _began his mother's letter.

_How dare you cause us so much worry! You could have at least given us word that you were well the moment you arrived! A message should have come three weeks after! Not three months with Gandalf! You're father and I have been ill with worry! I expect a hastier reply this time or I will hoof it to Erebor myself and tan your hide myself!_

Bilbo wondered how she'd manage to get here at her age, though he didn't put it past her to try.

_On a lighter note, I am glad your wedding has gone well. I am sorry we could not be there ourselves, but it sounds you're getting along quite well with your new family. Those new nephews of yours sound like the perfect pair of rapscallions. Your grandfather would have loved them. When you find the time to visit, bring them and their mother along. I would very much like to meet Dis._

_With love,_

_Mother_

Bilbo pulled out a sheet of paper and began his response:

_Mother,_

_Please don't embarrass me in front of my family. I already apologized for the lateness and Gandalf had insisted on taking the letter himself. How was I to know it'd take so long? Though it does explain why this letter took six months to await a reply. _

_Life here is much different than it is in Hobbiton, but it's not unpleasant. As you guessed, Fili and Kili keep me busy enough. _

_Thorin is often busy, but then again, so am I as—finally!—the people have demanded I learn their faith in its entirety which includes learning the Holy Language, Khuzdul. Dis has been teaching me and she is a very patient teacher. I've not seen a language like this before and it is very different from Westron. _

_I study diligently, and soon I should be able to read it easily enough. Frerin is as aloof as ever. He is kind when we do speak, though, so I don't think there is any ill will, though I would like it if he were a tad more sociable and less diligent in his work. _

_You would like Dis quite a bit, Mother. The two of you have much in common…_

The door opened. Bilbo set the quill down and closed the inkwell, wiping his hands on a piece of linen. Thorin flops onto the bed with a groan. Bilbo pulls his boots off. The first came off with a suctioning sound resembling clogged water.

"I take it the meeting with the other Lords went well?"

"Well it would have included invitations to tea. It went decently enough until one was a little too loud insulting the Prince Consort." _Schloop_ went the other boot.

"That won't do."

"No. It won't," Thorin said, sitting up. "And it won't help any with Azog preparing an attack on Erebor and the other Kingdoms. Dissension could not have come at a worse time!"

Bilbo set the boots down at the corner of the bed before climbing up beside Thorin, planting a kiss on his husband's tense jaw.

"Get some rest. Try to set things straight in the morning and the Seven Kingdoms will be unified against Azog. Fair enough?"

Thorin turned to face Bilbo. "Rest, huh?"

"You look you could use it. I've no immediate plans for the day save finishing a response to my mother which will be carried by messenger bird rather than wizard."

Thorin kissed Bilbo. "I'm sure your mother can wait an extra day."

"Judging her threats to tan my hide, I'd rather not take the risk." Thorin pulled Bilbo into his arms and lay on his side, stubbornly refusing to let him go. "Thorin, I would not underestimate my mother. She would march on Erebor alone without guide or aid to carry out a threat of a spanking."

"She'll have to get in line."

"Oh, hilarious," Bilbo muttered, squirming out of Thorin's grasp.

Thorin groaned unappreciatively at his escape.

"I'm not even leaving the room," he assured Thorin. "Now get some sleep. I'll join you when I'm finished writing the letter."

He did exactly as he said he'd do, unaware that Thorin watched him as a cat would a bird that _mildly_ caught his interest but was too lazy to act on it.

Bilbo finished his letter and let it lay on the table to dry before returning to bed. He lay beside Thorin, kissing him chastely. And it would have remained so had not Thorin pulled him back to deepen the kiss.

"I love you."

"And I you, my king," Bilbo replied. "Now get some sleep."

"Gladly."

#

Three days passed and dissension had only increased between the seven kingdoms.

"I don't know where to begin," he said to Dis. "I feel I should be the one to make it right, but at the same time, I wouldn't know what to say to them!"

Dis handed him a cup.

"Do you know what is causing the dissension?"

"Possibly," Bilbo sighed. "It may be because of me. Perhaps if I were meet with them personally…"

"Do you know if that will work?" she asked. "Or will it cause further strife? One of the complaints has to do with your study of Khuzdul."

"It's been taught to others before, hasn't it?"

"It has, but it is rare and the other kings do not know you as we do."

"All the more reason for me to try," Bilbo said, drinking the cooling tea. "If Thorin will let me…"

"I think he would if Frerin did not stand in his way," Dis said. "I love both of my brothers, and Frerin is quite wise. But Thorin rides his opinion too much on Frerin's voice. Do not look so stern, Bilbo. It is not an offense. Frerin means well towards you. He may not seem it, but like how he asks after my boys, he asks after you as well from both me and Thorin. He is merely too busy acting as Thorin's advisor to do much about his time."

Bilbo set the empty tea cup down.

"Then I will ask Frerin what he thinks. Do you know if he'd be able to speak with me?"

"I would think he'd not object," she mused. "Best way would be to just cut him off on his way in our out of the throne room."

Bilbo nodded.

"I will see what I can do about it," he said, "Though I am not keen on doing so without Thorin present. As friendly as Frerin has seemed, he is a tad intimidating to a Hobbit."

Dis laughed.

"You know my boys? One would assume Fili to be Thorin's son and Kili to be Frerin's as alike my boys are to their uncles! Frerin used to be as friendly as Kili. And as smooth faced."

Bilbo couldn't imagine Frerin without a beard.

"They hold council now, don't they?"

"They do. Shall I accompany you?"

"No," Bilbo said, standing. "I can handle a few old lords if I can handle one as shrewd as Thorin. Thank you for tea, Dis. I'll see you at dinner tonight."

"As will I, Dear Brother."

Bilbo headed to his room first to make sure he looked presentable, assured that the seven Dwarf Lords would need to see how he carried himself.

He dared not wear earrings, but he made sure his marriage braid could be seen and wore the circlet over his head. He donned blue robes and, finally, made the trek to the Throne Room.

The guards bowed to him on arrival and opened the door for him. Bilbo barely heard the announcement of his arrival as he marched in a manner he hoped looked surer than he felt.

The Kings and their advisors stared at him oddly. None had seen a Hobbit before and that he dared to come was beyond their comprehension.

Bilbo bowed his head slightly.

"Hail to you, my lords. How is the plan to meet Azog in battle coming?"

Gazes shifted down to the floor.

"Or am I still the one who has been taking up these meetings?" he asked. He waited for an answer which never came.

Thorin and Frerin stared at him, though the looks on their faces remained unreadable.

"If I may be so bold, my lords," Bilbo continued, crossing his arms. "Your arguments over my being here and my marriage and my learning of your language are completely beside the point. You are here to talk of a defense against the Orcs. Not to question my husband's choice in me as a spouse. I would greatly appreciate you to remember why you are here and _come up with a defense plan_ or so help me—"

"Gentlemen," Thorin said, striding by and taking Bilbo's shoulders. "Please excuse us." He steered Bilbo out of the Throne Room. "While I will not deny that that was brilliant, may I ask what possessed you?"

"I actually meant to talk to you and Frerin about it before I dared to say anything to them, but it sort of…slipped out. Sorry."

Thorin grinned, leaning against the wall.

"No. That was exactly what they needed to hear, âzyung. As they would not hear it from me or Frerin though we did try to keep them focused, I think you're unexpected appearance and impromptu speech jolted them into reality. Or should I call it a lecture?"

"A scolding would be the best description," Bilbo said, smirking, tilting his head to the side. "Did you not see them? They must feel like Dwarflings now."

"If they don't, then they have wax in their ears." Thorin approached, placing his hands on either side of Bilbo's waist. "Or they were struck by your beauty."

"Giving you more cause to fuel your possession of me which needs no more fuel than it already has."

Thorin kissed him.

"Would that be so bad?"

"Thorin, you have war coming to our doorstep! Either do your job or I'll do it myself!"

Thorin smirked wider.

"I will. No one said I couldn't do that and enjoy my husband at the same time."

Bilbo rolled his eyes, trying to hide the affection he felt for Thorin at that moment.


	14. Chapter 14

Character death and attempted rape here. Skip chapter if you either are a trigger.

* * *

Azog's force came to Erebor within a week. Bilbo hated being left behind in the mountain in uncertainty while Thorin fought on the battle field. He found himself watching from their terrace as the war prolonged.

Often he found himself praying to Mahal for protection over Thorin and their army.

On the tenth night, Bilbo finished dressing for bed when the doors broke open and two Orcs seized him.

Bilbo screamed, thrashing against them. Something foul was wrenched over his head. His hands and feet were bound. Something slammed into his head.

#

Bilbo groaned. His head pounded like a hammer against an anvil. He sat up. An Orc approached, pinching his face. Bilbo tried to pull away, but it pried his mouth open and poured bitter liquid down his throat, making him choke.

It stalked away, saying something to another.

A giant albino Orc approached him and spoke.

"He welcomes you, King's Whore," another Orc growled. Bilbo was too afraid to let the insult get to him. "And asks what you would like to eat."

"I would like nothing to eat," these words brought some bravery back to Bilbo.

The translator repeated the message to the Orc. The albino spoke again. "You have no choice, Whore."

"I am not a whore!" Bilbo shouted. "I am the King's Consort! His husband! I would thank you not to insult my marriage!"

The orc spoke his words to Azog line for line, amusement in his eyes. The albino roared, thinking it just as funny. Bilbo wondered if Orcs had any real concept of marriage.

Probably not.

The albino spoke again. "My Master says you are amusing. Your _husband_ will not come for you. That makes you a whore and easily disposable."

Bilbo ground his teeth. "Thorin will come when he realizes I am missing. You'll see. He'll come."

**Murder to attempted rape here. Skip down if this is a trigger for you.**

The albino said something to the translator, who pulled Bilbo to his feet. He was pushed along, his hands bound. He was led to a room where a body, bloody and mutilated, was shredded to pieces.

He recognized the face and screamed.

They took Frerin away to burn his carcass. Bilbo shook, falling to his feet. The image of Frerin's innards splayed over out his stomach etched itself in his mind and he wished he could scrub the image of his dead brother-in-law out of his mind.

The albino said something. The translator grinned nastily at Bilbo.

"He said, bring out the prince."

Bilbo looked up. Fili? Or Kili? Oh god, even if it wasn't either of his nephews he didn't think he'd be able to bear it!

Kili was dragged out by two Orcs, his tunic ripped from his body and his torso scratched bloody and bruised.

He was forced to his knees.

"Azog welcomes you, Little Prince."

Kili sneered. And though he looked brave and acted as such, Bilbo could see the fear inside him.

"He reunites you with your Uncle's whore—"

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE PRINCE CONS—"

An Orc slammed its fist into Kili's jaw. He gasped, blood spilling out his cut lip. Kili spit at the ground.

"And your uncle will decide how you are going to die," The translator said, chuckling. Kili bit his lip. Of course _this_ would be the outcome.

Kili swallowed and focused on his breathing. Bilbo didn't know how Kili managed to keep calm. His brain felt fuzzy.

Kill Kili? They wanted him to kill Kili!

"It's going to be okay," Bilbo said.

"It's up to you, Whore," the translator said.

Bilbo rounded on the giant Orc. "You cannot make me do such a thing! I will not have my family's blood on my hands!"

The translator repeated Bilbo's word in Black Speech. Azog cocked his head to the side and said something.

"He asks you if that is an offer to trade places with him."

"Bilbo, no!" Kili shouted.

Bilbo blinked. He swallowed and bit his lip. "Yes."

The Orcs stared at him, chuckling. Azog knelt down, grasping Bilbo by the neck, but his grasp was not tight enough to cut off Bilbo's airway. He spoke.

"I commemorate your bravery, Whore," the translator said. "Thorin chose well, making your demise more pitiful."

Bilbo shook, trying to maintain the same bravery Kili maintained. Azog lifted him up, standing. Bilbo held onto Azog's wrist, kicking his legs, though they hit nothing. He was carried back inside and dropped onto fur pelts. Azog knelt over him, pinning Bilbo down.

"If you're going to kill me, then kill me!" Bilbo shouted, thrashing beneath Azog. His attempts seemed only to amuse the Orc. Bilbo bit his hand. Azog pulled away, more annoyed than hurt. He slammed the back of his hand into Bilbo's cheek.

Shock flowed through Bilbo's body, making him rigid. Azog pinned him down again.

Bilbo shook. _I can't get out of this…why won't he just kill me?_

He inhaled. "_THORIN!_" Bilbo screamed.

**Murder and attempted rape scene finished. Please continue.**

Fire lit the room. Bilbo couldn't be sure how. Azog jumped up, roaring, giving Bilbo a chance to run. He dodged between Azog's legs and out the room. A hand stopped him.

"What manner of creature is this?" An Elf asked.

"We'll figure it out later," another promised. "He is a captive also and he screamed for the Dwarvenking. Take him to the Elvenking with the prince."

#

Bilbo was bound and blindfolded again. At least this time, he was sure the threat of death was out of the question. He doubted the Elves killed save under the strictest reasons.

He remained calm, for the most part.

"Where is Kili?" he asked. "Is he all right?"

"You should not ask questions," his captor suggested.

"I ask anyway. Is he all right?"

Silence. "He is injured, but alive. Our healers are aiding him."

Bilbo sighed. "Good. Thank Mahal."

"Now I have a question for you, as I will need to give some information to my king."

"Tell him I am Bilbo Baggins, a Hobbit of the Shire. I am the husband to the King under the Mountain."

The Elf chuckled. "That will be introduction enough, O Prince."

"Glad we could aid each other," Bilbo said. "Any chance of getting this blindfold off?"

"No."

Bilbo attempted a shrug. His captive was much nicer than he thought he'd be…or at least a decent conversationalist. "Can't blame a Hobbit for trying," he said.

No more was said.

So much for being a decent conversationalist.

When the blindfold was removed, he stood in a forest canopy. The Elf bowed to another, dressed regally and bearing a crown. He repeated Bilbo's very words to him and Thranduil stared at Bilbo.

"You are Prince Consort to Thorin son of Thrain."

"I am," Bilbo said. "Bilbo Baggins at your service, King Thranduil," he bowed. "May I ask where my nephew is and when it may be safe to return to Erebor?"

Thranduil's mouth thinned.

"You're nephew is well, but has caused much trouble for my men. He is in the dungeons."

"Well, you'll find me more agreeable than any of my relatives. On behalf of Thorin and of Kili, I apologize for Kili's behavior. He is young and impressionable and I'm afraid the impression Dwarves give their young concerning Elves is unpleasant. I promise I can keep him n line. Would you please release him?"

Thranduil frowned. "Are you aware, Lord, that you are in no position to be asking anything?"

Bilbo frowned. "Why ever not? I believed my nephew and I were rescued by friends."

"I am afraid there is no honor in the alliance between my kingdom and your husband's. We may be so inclined to honor that alliance were your husband of similar mind."

"Perhaps there is a reason that the alliance has little honor?"

Thranduil did not reply. "If you would like to send your husband a letter, assuring your safety and your nephew's, you may send it when the ransom note is ready."

"Ransom!" Bilbo exclaimed. "There is no need to fall to such a petty state!"

"Petty, indeed. However the share we are promised has not come for many years. So I ask again, what allegiance ought we give you, Consort under the Mountain?"

Bilbo bit his lip, trying to think of a solution. "If you insist on sending a ransom note, I will send a letter to Thorin with it. But after, I would like to see a copy of the original alliance that was drawn up."

Thranduil smirked. "I do not understand your interest. Most spouses to kings, especially those of Erebor, do not attempt to dabble in politics."

"Had I not dared, my people would not have an allied front against Azog, which," Bilbo smirked back, crossing his arms, "you just aided them in."

Thranduil chuckled. "Hostage or not, we may become good friends, Prince Bilbo."

"Likewise, King Thranduil."


	15. Chapter 15

Summary of last chapter (if you did not read it): The war has begun. Bilbo, Frerin, and Kili are taken prisoner by Azog. Frerin is brutally murdered and the corpse shown to Bilbo. Kili is then brought out and Bilbo is given a choice: either he can watch Kili be torn to shreds by the Orcs or he can kill him himself. Bilbo chooses to take Kili's place instead but as he is about to be humiliated and killed, the Elves of Mirkwood rescue them and Bilbo and Kili find they are traded one captor for another, albeit a kinder one. Bilbo finds out that Elves and Dwarves have an alliance that has not been honored in years. He figures he could do something about it.

* * *

Two days passed before Bilbo was reunited with a slouching, glaring Kili.

Bilbo whacked his arm."Enough of that," he snapped. "Try to pretend we are guests and not prisoners. Besides, compared to before, this is a better situation. Not ideal, but still. Better."

"I know, but _Elves._"

Bilbo shook his head. He decided it could be worse. Kili could still be in the dungeons. He pushed him to a bath tub. "Clean yourself up. We are having dinner with Thranduil and his son tonight and you will look your best. Even if it means wearing Elfish clothing. I mean that, Kili."

"Yes, Uncle."

Bilbo left Kili to himself as he went to dress for dinner.

He tilted his head to the side, looking at the many buttoned tunic and light cloth breeches. Both were dark blue and better suited to a child, but Bilbo managed to fit them on just fine. He glanced in the mirror to fix his hair, making sure the two clasps in his hair were visible.

Kili emerged. "You look like a little Elf," he complained, "If not for the curly hair and your feet."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious as usual, Kili," Bilbo said, handing him another pair of similar clothes. "Those are yours. Get dressed."

Kili frowned, glaring at them. He obeyed.

Bilbo seized a brush and once he managed to corner Kili, he dragged the teeth through his hair and fixed his braids.

"There," Bilbo said, smiling. "You look like a prince of Erebor now."

"I feel too pretty."

"Oh hush. Let's go."

Bilbo led him out the door and to the dining room, a great hall roofed by a forest canopy. Thranduil was not there yet, but his son was.

Legolas grinned at Bilbo. "My lord, thank you for coming."

"Thank you for the invitation. And for finally releasing this knuckleheaded nephew of mine."

Legolas stared at Kili. "You're most welcome," he said.

Kili shrugged. Bilbo elbowed him again. "Thanks," he managed. Bilbo repressed a sigh. He prayed Kili would not screw up what he's trying to do. He feared telling him would have Kili putting on an act that was far from believable.

Thranduil arrived, bringing a second bout of bowing and words of gratitude.

"The treaty has been found and will be presented to you after dinner, Bilbo," Thranduil said. Kili fumed. Bilbo patted his arm.

"Thank you, Thranduil. I will look at it posthaste." Kili turned to Bilbo, shocked.

"Uncle?"

"We may be hostages, but there is no reason for us to take the chance to improve relationships," he whispered. "Now behave yourself."

Dinner was taken up mostly by Thranduil and Bilbo conversing while Kili and Legolas listened. They added their input, if they had any to give.

Bilbo spied Legolas sending Kili glances. They weren't as subtle as the young Elf prince thought. He wondered if Kili noticed. If he did, he was doing a good job pretending he didn't.

After dinner, Legolas and Kili were dismissed while Thranduil and Bilbo headed to another room.

"I am unsure you know what you are doing," Thranduil said, handing the treaty to Bilbo. "This treaty is old."

"Meaning it needs to be updated, perhaps, and will need something ironclad to hold my husband to honor it."

"Such as?"

"I will tell you when I know," Bilbo promised. "Until then, we are at an impasse."

"You're husband has yet to send a ransom for you and your nephew," Thranduil said.

Bilbo chuckled. "He's probably planning on marching on the Greenwood to get us back instead of answering your demands. Thorin is stubborn. By some stroke of luck, so am I," he grinned. "Hopefully, there will be enough time to spare to sort this out." He held up the frail parchment and sat down.

He unrolled the parchment and began to read it.

_Trade agreements…Tax agreements…war time agreements…those need not be changed. _

"May I ask what exactly is unsatisfying? It seems in order."

"The treaty itself is not the problem," Thranduil said, crossing his arms. "It is the breaking of it. The Dwarves of Erebor have swindled out of every loophole they can find among it."

"And I suppose they would say the same about your people?"

Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

"I live with them. Dwarves are not keen on Elves and from what I see the same can be said about Elves on Dwarves. The best option is to see what loopholes exist in this contract and rewrite it eliminating any and all loopholes." Bilbo smiled. "I will get to work on this tonight. It will take two days for a new document in place at most."

Thranduil nodded. "I will show you the library, in that case, and offer the aid of a scribe."

"Thank you." Bilbo stood. Thranduil led him down the earth and wood scented halls. Bilbo reread the contract, hoping he could find the loopholes within it.

#

"_Ow!" Bilbo shouted, slipping on the icy street as he closed the distance to the Forge. He whimpered and stood, dusting his bottom of snow and rubbing the cold pain the ice brought him. Thorin stepped outside, wearing a tunic over his torso when he usually wears nothing save trousers and boots, with a pipe in hand. Bilbo approaches, still rubbing his sour butt._

"_All right?"_

"_I slipped," he mumbled lamely. "And I was careful not to the whole way here, so this is rather humiliating."_

_Thorin snorted, lighting his pipe._

"_How are you not cold?"_

"_Go inside and warm up, then tell me it's too cold later. You may as well shed your coat and scarf. Be sure to warm your feet by the fire. They're almost frostbitten. For all your hardiness, Bilbo, your feet will fall off if you don't keep them warm."_

_Bilbo blanched and entered the forge, sitting close to the fire feet as close as he dared to get._

_He held the package in his hand, staring at it. _

_He glanced at Thorin, who was blowing smoke rings. Bilbo wondered if he could learn to do something like that. They were rather impressive smoke rings, though he only had the smoke rings his father made to compare them to._

_He turned away to the package again. _

This is stupid_, he told himself, courage waning as he clutched the clump to his chest. _

_He pulled his warm feet away from the fire and set the package down beside him. He removed his coat and scarf. As Thorin promised, it was quite warm in the forge and, though a shock, the chill outside was welcome._

_Bilbo knew it'd make more sense if he watched the snow flakes or Thorin's smoke rings. He couldn't take his eyes off Thorin, though. _

_He didn't know why he bothered. _

_Bilbo knew his face from a great distance. He could pinpoint Thorin's location by hearing him speak if they were close by. He knew exactly how many earrings Thorin wore and their design, and how many braids he had in his hair and the very color and stone and design of the beads holding the twined threads of hair together. He knew how strong Thorin was, as he could lift Bilbo easily without an ounce of trouble. Bilbo knew every scar, burn, and tattoo decorating the fuzzy torso beneath Thorin's tunic. He knew the sound of Thorin's laugh, how wide his mouth could be when he smiled and what he liked to eat and drink. He took Thorin's words to heart far faster than he ever did his own father's._

_He spent most of his days at the Forge talking to Thorin about anything and everything he could think of. He would tell stories he made up on the spot, recite his lessons from the day…anything to make Thorin smile. Anything to have the large hand ruffle his hair. _

_Bilbo didn't know when he first started to think of Thorin differently. The Blacksmith's opinion of him always seemed to matter to him._

_And the desire to kiss Thorin grew like wildfire in Bilbo's heart. _

_He wasn't foolish. Bilbo knew it couldn't happen until he was much older than he was now. But he could hope and he certainly dreamt. Bilbo researched all he could about Dwarfish customs, paying particular detail to their courting rituals. _

_He made a courting gift for Thorin, but there was no way he'd be given a gift in return. He was still too young. Thorin might accept it, but it would not do for him to make something in return, would it?_

I love you,_ Bilbo thought._ I am in love with you, Thorin.

_Bilbo hugged Thorin, hiding his face against his side._

"_Bilbo?"_

_Bilbo clung tighter, biting his lip to futilely try and stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. Thorin pet his head, running his hand through Bilbo's curls. _

#

Bilbo waited for the ink to dry.

He thanked the Scribe and walked out of the library, yawning and stretching, looking for Kili.

He found him on a sort of shooting range, dueling Legolas. The Elf prince wrapped his arms around Kili's waist, kissing his cheek. Kili turned his head to return the kiss.

_Interesting development_, Bilbo mused. He decided to let Kili be alone with Legolas for now. It might improve relations between the Greenwood and Erebor further, but that was something he would need to talk to Kili and Thorin about. Maybe even with Dis.

For now, Bilbo was not above admitting that he was more interested in finding something to eat than politics.


	16. Chapter 16

On the morning of the seventeenth day since his and Kili's abduction, Bilbo could see Erebor, reaching for the blue sky.

"Oh, it'll be good to be home again," Kili said.

Bilbo smirked. "Won't you miss Legolas?"

Kili blushed. "Uncle, stop teasing."

"No. I don't think I will," Bilbo said in a singsong tone. Kili glared, but turned away, to look at Legolas. Bilbo bit back the urge to tease Kili.

The gates to Erebor opened as the distance closed. Bilbo and Kili dismounted, leading the ponies into the mountain. Legolas followed on horseback.

At the entrance, running down the stairs, was Dis. She engulfed Kili into her arms, weeping. Dwalin approached Bilbo.

"My prince," he whispered, "Thorin has been told, but he refuses to come. He is skeptical of Thranduil's latest letter."

"Where is he?"

"The throne room with the other Dwarf Lords."

Bilbo sighed. "I should get out of Elvish garb first, I will be there in half an hour." Dwalin led him to his room. Bilbo changed clothes quickly enough before going to the throne room.

The guards beamed opened the doors for him.

"What is the meaning of this?!" one of the Lords shouted. "You were told to keep the doors closed!"

"Even to me?" Bilbo asked, entering. Thorin straightened, staring at Bilbo. The others had mixed reactions. Some seemed glad, others less so. All were surprised.

Thorin stood. "We will reconvene tomorrow," he told the others, who began to protest. "All of you would do the same in my place if your spouses were stolen from you!" he countered, lifting Bilbo into his arms.

"Thorin, I can still walk, you know…"

They returned to their room. Thorin leaned against the wall, still holding Bilbo. He hid his face in the crook of Bilbo's neck.

"Don't you dare do that again," Thorin groaned. "Don't you dare scare me like that again…"

Bilbo relaxed and pet his head. "I was scared too, at first. But I'm all right. So is Kili." Bilbo's heart felt heavy, remembering Frerin. How cruel it is that not all three of them could return. That Frerin had suffered a terrible death, which Thorin probably learned of.

To have news of the way your brother died and know in the same enemy's hands is your nephew and spouse…

Bilbo didn't think he could bear it. He wondered how Thorin managed to still do what he can and not fall apart. "Was Frerin's body…"

"Never recovered. Save the head. It was buried," Thorin lifted his head. "What happened to him?"

Bilbo fisted Thorin's cloak. "I'd rather not say. The memory is too awful to recall. It haunts me. You owe the Elves of the Greenwood."

Thorin scowled. "I admit I owe them, if only because I knew they would not disrespect you and Kili. But I do not trust them. Why should I?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "For once, will you set aside this inane prejudice you have with them and try to trust them?"

"Thranduil held you and Kili captive," Thorin said, setting Bilbo down. "He demanded ransom."

"Because of trade disputes and treaty guidelines he claims Erebor would not adhere to. Is that so? Correct me if I'm wrong."

Thorin sighed. "That treaty is old."

"And a new treaty has been written in its place," Bilbo said. "Thranduil and I agreed to it. All that's left is for you to—for goodness sakes, Thorin, stop _scowling_! It's not like you have to kiss an elf. You only need to look it over and sign the blasted piece of paper."

Thorin still scowled. "And who wrote it? An Elf?"

"No. I wrote it."

He relaxed, though he still scowled. "At least it wasn't written by an Elf."

"It's not the end of the world if you sign a peace treaty and renew bonds with the Greenwood."

"You don't know that," Thorin said, snarling. "Elves, Bilbo. We don't get along with them. Never have. Never will."

"The treaty at least keeps us on good terms politically and it's a very good thing you have me around then. Hobbits love Elves."

Thorin rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I know. That's what I don't like."

Bilbo bit back the retort that his people may have a fancy for Elves, but he did marry Thorin. He pulled at Thorin's arms, uncrossing them and taking his hands in his own. "It wouldn't do you any harm to take a look," Bilbo suggested. "At least read it over, Thorin. I wouldn't be here at all if Thranduil didn't agree to the new treaty."

Thorin exhaled slowly. "I will read it. If I like what I read, _maybe_ I will sign it. I cannot make any promises that I will."

"That is all I ask. Thank you."

Thorin kissed him. "I have to get back before they think I've abandoned our discussion to be with my husband."

"Would they really see it as an insult?" Bilbo asked.

"No, not insult. Some would think me irresponsible for it."

"They do not like me much, do they?"

"A couple of them were won over. The others admire but still think I have lost my mind in marrying a Hobbit. However, I think they'll stop doubting you eventually."

Bilbo doubted that they'd _ever_ stop doubting.

#

"I have a right to go!" Fili shouted, banging his fist on the table. "I'm sixty-five, Uncle! I can fight—"

"And who will be king if you perish in battle?" Thorin shot back. Bilbo thought it better if neither went to war, but getting a word in edgewise had proven a little more difficult.

"Kili can rule! He's a male heir as well. Same education and all that so you may as well give him a chance!"

"I want to go to!"

"You've just turned sixty!" Dis shrieked. "And we already lost Frerin! All of you are mad if you think I'll let any of you go!"

Bilbo sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. It'd be better to wait until they've all stopped yelling.

"You're too young!" Fili shouted at his brother.

"I'm an adult! I can make my own decisions, damn it!"

"Neither of you are going!"

"The three of you staying here where it's safe!"

Bilbo jumped to his feet. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" They silence staring at him. "While I would like to agree with Dis and lock the three of you in your rooms, it cannot be done. Someone needs to lead the army," he looked at Thorin. "And even though Fili and Kili are young, they are not so young they ought to stay at home. They also have received training and I have seen them fight. They are well prepared for battle and already have seen battle. However, there is still another in the Line of Durin who can rule in Thorin's stead." Bilbo looked at Dis. "If the people will permit a woman on the throne acting as regent until the three of you return."

"But as consort, the act of regent is supposed to you," Kili said.

"Well, that's because I'll also be going," Bilbo said, crossing his arms and daring them to defy his decision. Thorin's mouth set in a thin line.

"I will not permit that," he growled. "Anything else—"

"I believe you said the same about Khuzdul, my dear husband. Yet I speak it as well as a Dwarf now, at least conversationally. I am going, whether you like it or not."

"Bilbo—"

"That is my decision. I can fight. You know that. Let me."

"And if you die what then?" Thorin shouted.

"My mother would march down and wallop every Dwarf she found," Bilbo said, smiling. From the frown on his face, Thorin didn't seem to think it as funny. "Look, I won't die. I know you won't allow it any more than I will allow you to die, Thorin."

"You doubt Dwalin's skill?"

"No, but I'd feel better if I were by your side anyway."

Thorin ground his teeth and crossed his arms. "I will not allow it. I'd feel better knowing you were safe here."

"Here hasn't proven to be very safe before," Bilbo reminded him. "Not when Orcs have stormed the place already—driven back or not—and robbed me out of the house under your very nose."

"Think of how easier it would be for them to do the same again if you are in their territory!"

"I may not have seen the way Frerin died, but I know what they did to his body!" Bilbo shrieked. "He was my brother too! I want revenge!"

His family stared at him. Bilbo's chest rose and fell.

"What Azog did…no one should be able to do something so…so…it was _evil_, Thorin, what they did to him."

"They are Orcs," Dis said, patting his shoulder. "They are not known for being good. The battlefield is no place for a Hobbit, though we know your anger. An abduction of the Prince Consort will never repeat so long as the people have a Consort whom they respect. The people love you, Bilbo. They respect you. They will not like you're going to war."

"We'll bring you Azog's head," Kili said, in an effort to appease Bilbo. "Besides, I _did_ see what they did to the body." He tried to smile. "I do not want to go back to the field, but what good am I here?"

Bilbo sighed, nodding. He far from agreed, but it seemed his family was resolute. In the back of his mind, a plan hatched. If they do not want him to go to war _with _them, he'd just have to go _after_ them.


	17. Chapter 17

Dis and Bilbo watched the army march away from the balcony.

"It never gets easier, does it?" Bilbo asked.

"No."

When the army was out of sight, Bilbo left the balcony, heading to his room. How long had it been since he reunited with Thorin? Two weeks? Three? And his husband had once again gone to war.

It simply wasn't fair! It seemed something was doing their best to keep him and Thorin parted.

He did not like it. Not at all.

Bilbo lay his armor out on the bed and crossed his arms, staring at it with his head cocked to the side. It was the wear of a common foot soldier. Other than his lack of beard and hairy feet, he could pass off as a soldier if he was careful enough.

He turned his nose up at the boots, but he would need to wear them if he wanted to go undetected.

The door opened and closed. "I still think you've lost your wits, Bilbo," Bofur said, shifting about.

"Shut up and help me get into this stuff," Bilbo snapped, already fixing the Mithril chain mail over his torso.

Bofur slumped his shoulders and obeyed. "I got you a chin-wig too," he said, holding up a black pelt. Bilbo stared at it.

"Do I want to know?"

"No. But it's clean."

Bilbo stared at it, his tongue in cheek. He nodded. "Good enough." He took the wig and latched the loops around his ears, fixing the mustache part over his lip. He turned to Bofur, whose eyes widened. "How do I look?"

Bofur turned red, clapping a hand over his mouth. Bilbo shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure laughing at royalty is grounds for treason, Bofur."

Bofur threw his head back and laughed, clutching his belly. Bilbo shook his head, taking the chin-wig off.

"Help me with the boots, will you? I've no idea how to use them."

"Well, if you went around with shoes…"

"Hobbits have no need for shoes," Bilbo sighed. "Our feet are very tough and the hair there keeps them nice and warm—_ow!_ Are they meant to pinch so terribly?"

Bofur pulled the boot off and held it to Bilbo's foot. Bibo's toes passed the tip of the boot He chuckled again.

"You got the wrong size, Sire."

"Oh, bother…"

"I'll be back with bigger sizes." Bofur left, carrying the boots in his hand.

Bilbo wondered if he'd ever catch up to the army at this rate.

#

Bilbo and Bofur saddled their ponies. Bilbo's toes curled and flexed in the shoes. He found them constricting in many ways. Somehow, shoes just felt _wrong_. Just as much as socks did. He wondered how the other races did it!

Dis met them at the entrance. "You are sure I cannot persuade you to wait here?"

"You are welcome to try, but I will go whether you try to stop me or not."

"I do not intend to," Dis said, taking his hand in hers. "Bilbo, be safe. Ride hard and may Mahal watch over you."

"Thank you. Come on, Bofur."

"I thought we were friends."

"We are," Bilbo said with a smirk, "Which is why I'm okay with bossing you around."

"Oh, that's nice. Bully the servant, why don't you."

"You can take it. Again: goodbye, Dis. May Mahal watch over you as well."

He and Bofur urged their ponies into a gallop toward Moria.

#

"_What's it like?" _

_Thorin lowered his arms, staring at Bilbo. _

"_What's what like?"_

"_Being in a war," Bilbo specified. "What's it like?"_

_Thorin was eerily quiet and stern, staring at Bilbo. Bilbo wondered if he ought to have asked at all. Perhaps not. _

_He stood his ground._

"_I pray you never find out."_

"_Thorin!"_

"_Talk of war is not something you ought to hear," Thorin growled, stepping out of the forge. "You are young and I would rather not tell you."_

_Bilbo frowned. _

"_War is…damaging. I do not know what you have heard, Bilbo. I do not know if you heard that or the opposite, which would only be told by a fool who knows nothing of what war causes. I have seen families shattered to pieces, I have seen lives taken before their time. I have—"_

_Thorin sighed, sitting down, one leg extended. He rested his arm on his knee, staring at the ground._

_Bilbo stared. _

"_Does it not bring peace?"_

_Thorin scoffed. _

"_In my long years, I cannot see what peace war has to bring us. All I wish is for a world that adheres more to the Shire's philosophy. Perhaps this is where peace truly does have free rein instead of war."_

_Bilbo stared. _

_What else could he do? He didn't know what to say. _

_He walked away to a nearby field and picked several wild flowers, stringing them into a crown. He returned and placed the crown on Thorin's head without bothering to ask first. _

_Thorin blinked. _

"_What are you doing?"_

"_You looked sad. Flower crowns usually make you feel better. Not that I tell anyone that."_

"_And not that I'd let anyone else get away with putting a wreath of bee-magnets on my head," Thorin added._

"_See: you're happier already."_

#

The camp outside Azanulbizar is alight in small fires, for meals. Dwarves sat around them, eating meager wares.

Bilbo looked around, unsure what he was looking for or if he was merely curious. He wanted to find Thorin and quickly, but at the same time, he dreaded that meeting.

"We should find a place to set up camp," Bofur suggested.

"Do so. I'd like to get out of these traps you call shoes."

Bofur snorted, doing as he was told.

Bilbo kept glancing about, wondering if he'd catch sight of his family. So far, he had not. And perhaps that was a good thing. Bilbo followed Bofur—

"Kill the fires."

He turned to see Thorin.

"And ready the garrison. I want at least some defense ready for if Azog attacks in the middle of the night."

"Yes, Sire." The dwarf he spoke to ran off.

Thorin looked in Bilbo's direction.

Bilbo dived behind a tent. He didn't think Thorin would recognize him, but he didn't want to risk being found yet anyway. He waited until he was sure Thorin had passed by to come out of hiding.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

He jumped.

"Sorry!" Bofur hissed. "Sorry, Sire. You're tent's ready."

"Oh, good." He hit Bofur's chest. "Don't _do_ that! I thought you were Thorin for a moment."

"Again, I am sorry! If it means anything, Sire, the King and his nephews are staying in the center of the camp. We're further out."

"Good. That will do."

"Still, I'm not sure we should be doing this. I have a few doubts."

Bilbo sighed.

"As do I, but I cannot leave my family to face Azog again. I fear he is a foe too great for us." He patted Bofur's shoulder. "Remember. Not a _word_ to anyone that I am here."

"Of course, your highness."

One by one the fires died, snuffed on Thorin's orders.

Bilbo could not sleep. He did not know if it were the cold or the darkness or the approaching doom. He spent most of the night in silent prayer.

Would victory be in their favor? Or would it be here they met their doom?


	18. Chapter 18

Bilbo stepped outside, grumbling under his breath about the shoes and the wig itching his chin, helm covering his curly hair.

The air chilled him to the bone and the rising sun would not aid in warming him up.

The soldiers were quiet, breaking their fasts in silence, eyes downcast.

If this was morning before battle, Bilbo would rather not live through it a second time.

A crow sang in the tree above, startling Bilbo. He watched it fly away, shivering from the cold.

He wished he and his family were back in Erebor where they were safe. Not here where their enemies crawled.

Bilbo headed to get something to eat. No one stopped him or paid him heed. For which he was grateful, though he hoped he wasn't so ignored they'd forget he even existed.

Bofur joined him. "You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," he muttered.

"Most agreed," Bilbo said. "But I would be surprised if the men were cheerful." He spooned porridge into his mouth.

"Move out! We make for Azanulbizar!"

Bilbo set the bowl down and joined the throng, Bofur beside him.

"Sire," he whispered, "stay close to me. And try not to die."

"Very reassuring, Bofur," Bilbo muttered, elbowing him. "I've no intention of dying for a very long time."

"Good. I don't think the king would take well to you dying before your time."

"Bofur. Shut up."

"As you command, your highness."

The march to Azanulbizar was an uphill slope.

Bilbo thought he'd slip and fall if he did not pay attention to each step. Nearly before long, he wondered if this march would ever end.

They stopped at the top of the hill.

"Sire, this way," Bofur pulled him into line.

Thorin stood on a platform, his sword digging into the ground with both hands over it.

"The horrors we have witnessed end today," he began, roaring in Khuzdul. "Today, Azog will meet his end by the swords of Dwarves! Moria will be Dwarf-land again!"

He paused to allow thunderous shouts of affirmation.

"We avenge our fallen comrades! Our brothers! Our sons! Our fathers!"

Behind him the gates creaked and opened. It seemed like a fiery chasm, red and omnipotent. Out of it ran Orcs, big and small, roaring as they ran and their swords held high overhead.

Thorin raised his sword into the air.

"Ready the defense. Archers!"

The first line of Dwarves stepped forward, bows aimed at the sky.

For a moment, Bilbo was confused until he remembered a moment on the journey to Erebor where Balin explained the different sects of the army.

"_Archers never used to be a part of our defenses," Balin said. "But when Thorin was crowned, he established such a group, mainly because of Prince Kili's interest in the bow and arrow. Many traditionalist Dwarves think it too Elfish and are not quite happy having archers, but they proved useful to have around quickly enough so they really had no choice but to shut up and let them be."_

The first line of Orcs ran through the rain of arrows. A second volley lessened the number of enemies greatly.

Thorin gave an inaudible shout and the Dwarves charged, clashing into the wave of Orcs.

Bilbo wasn't sure what to do. He looked to and fro frantically, not knowing what to expect or where to look. He inhaled and exhaled, urging himself to calm down.

An Orc ran at him. Bilbo brandished his sword and blocked the Orc's blades, slamming his shield into his foe' side, not injuring, but certainly startling it into backing away long enough for Bilbo to ram his sword through the leg and cripple it before slashing it's shoulder where the neck met the expanse.

He turned around to drive his sword into the gut of a smaller orc.

"Bilbo!"

Bilbo turned around at the call of his name. Bofur swung his ax at the Orc descending on Bilbo.

"What did I say about dying?"

"I already killed two!"

"Five."

Bilbo frowned.

"Winner buys ale."

Bofur grinned toothily.

"Don't make bets not in your favor, m'lord, but I accept those terms graciously."

He ran off to add to his count.

Bilbo ran further in to the fray, slaying another one…two…three…

A fourth Orc ran at him, arm outstretched. Bilbo ducked and swung his sword upward, cutting the Orc's belly. It fell, allowing Bilbo to stab its spine in half.

Bilbo felt something stumble into him and he jumped around, pointing his sword at this newcomer, in case they were his foe. Thorin aimed his sword at him too. He lowered it.

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo's heart jumped into his throat.

How was he to get out of this one? How did Thorin know? The sword? Bilbo's eyes? Did he see the Mithril chain-mail?

Thorin tugged the fake beard down before Bilbo could come up with an answer to give him. He snarled and shouted for a retreat.

"What are you doing?"

"I could ask the same," Thorin growled, pushing him back to camp.

Once they were sure the Orcs would not follow and they could breathe safely again, Thorin sent Fili, Kili, and the other generals away, pulling Bilbo into his tent.

"I told you to stay in Erebor where it was safe," Thorin growled.

"You actually expected me to stay behind when my family might not return? I'm not going to do that!"

"What if you had died today? What if you had been slain and I didn't know it until it was too late? Did you think of that? War is no place for a Hobbit, Bilbo! You are not a warrior! Nor were you ever a soldier! I told you to stay behind because that is where you were safest!"

Bilbo crossed his arms, glaring back at Thorin.

"You imply that because I am a Hobbit, I am weak and that there is no possible way for me to have seen battle. My people may be the peaceful sort, Thorin, but we can fight if we have need to. I am not some princess who needs to be locked away for her safety! If I can fight, then I will fight!"

"You could have died!"

"You could have also!" Bilbo snapped. "Do you only think on how you would have felt if you lost me? What if it were reversed, Thorin? What if I had stayed behind and received news some weeks or months later that you were dead? I wasn't about to stay behind and not fight by your side if I could fight."

Thorin sighed, collapsing in a chair. "I understand what drives you. I do. But I never wanted you to witness this horror. You know I never wanted you here."

"For the love of Mahal! I'm not a child anymore, Thorin!"

"I know that."

"Then stop treating me like one! I am here and I am going to fight beside you or you and Fili and Kili will not fight at all!"

Thorin massaged his head. "Blast the stubbornness of Hobbits," he muttered. "Just as bad as Dwarves."

Bilbo tried not to smile at that, but if the corners of his mouth tugged upward…well, who needed to know?

"I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?" Thorin asked.

"No."

"Fine. But you're wearing full Mithril—"

"That would make me a bigger target, wouldn't it? Mithril's rather shiny."

"Yet harder than diamonds and lighter than feathers. You'll be able to run around and escape if need be."

"I'm not going to run away!"

"Bilbo, if the battle turns sour and you do not run away, I swear to Mahal and on pain of pain, something bad will happen to you. I do not yet know what. But it will be bad."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Fine. I will come back here if something goes wrong."

"Thank you." Thorin stood and opened the tent's flap.

Fili, Kili, and the generals stepped back, eye wide as a does.

"How much did you hear?" They shifted their feet. "All of it. Great."

"Where else are we going to get our entertainment?" a full bearded Dwarf asked.

Bilbo sighed, closing his eyes. "Gloin…"

"What?"

"Just get in here," Thorin said, stepping aside for them. They entered the tent, bowing their head to Bilbo, mumbling greetings as they did.


	19. Chapter 19

Full mithril chainmail is very strong, but so light Bilbo felt he was wearing pajamas instead. Then he was given the armor.

The breastplate locked around his torso felt restrictive, but he could move freely and it was light. The cuisse and greave he did worry about, but that was just as light as the breastplate.

His arms were encased in vambrace and mithril chainmail gloves to add to the protective gauntlets. His sword was strapped to his waist and a shield to his back.

Bilbo put the helmet on his head.

"I feel ridiculous," he snapped.

Thorin snorted, smiling.

"Don't laugh. This is a walking target!"

"Which no arrow can pierce."

"_Thorin_!"

"What? I'm wearing chainmail."

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"No one else is this decked out—"

"Yes they are. Their armor just isn't as shiny."

"Thorin…"

"I will wear armor," Thorin promised. "I'm not stupid enough not to."

Bilbo removed the helm from his head.

"What is wrong?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Now that we're here, I'm not sure what to do. I can fight, surely, but I am afraid of what lies ahead if we do not win."

Thorin beckoned him to approach and he obeyed. Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo's.

"I do not know what will happen. I do not know the future. Nor can I work miracles. I only pray we have Mahal's blessing. If we do, and I do believe we do, we will win and Moria will be a Dwarven refuge again and our brother will have the vengeance he deserves."

Bilbo wasn't sure if this was appeasing enough, but he supposed it would have to do.

"I do have one request," Thorin said before they left. "I want you to have command over the archers."

"I though Kili—"

"He will be shooting along with them. They will listen to you, Bilbo."

Bilbo bit his lip. "Very well."

He followed Thorin out of the tent. Bilbo could feel every pair of eyes on him, as though he were in a display case.

The march back to the gate was as long as it was before.

As a passing thought, he wondered what his parents would say to his being here. Probably quite a bit if they had anything to say…

The Orcs were waiting for them, gnashing their teeth, pounding their shields, and screeching.

"Hold the line," Thorin shouted.

"Archers at the ready!" Bilbo said, drawing his sword.

The Orcs charged.

Bilbo swung his sword down.

"Fire!"

It was a more relaxing experience, seeing the arrows rain down from over them. Bilbo did not get the chance to relish in it as the Orcs broke through the ranks of Dwarves.

"Ready your swords!"

He briefly wondered _what he was doing_.

Why had he even come? Why was he here and _leading_ of all things?

He was just a Hobbit! Hobbits aren't warriors! They aren't great leaders!

_But it could be said_, Bilbo thought, _that none of that truly matters_.

The line of Orcs broke through to them.

Bilbo embedded his sword in the first who came after him, pushed the small Orc off and battled through the crowd of screams and the field wiped red and black with blood.

Orc after Orc fell around him and to him. Bilbo looked around wildly, trying to find Thorin. A roar chilled him and he looked to the source. Azog and Thorin locked in battle.

Bilbo didn't know what possessed him to run. He just did. With sword in one hand and shield in the other, he broke through the lines to aid his husband.

He climbed onto the rock, thrusting his sword into the small of Azog's back, severing the spine. Azog's mace fell out of his hand. Bilbo pulled his sword free, letting the Orc drop to the ground. Black blood seeped out the wound as Azog passed.

Only then did Bilbo realize how silent the field had become. He looked around.

Orc and Dwarf alike stared at him. He realized his Mithril armor was soaked in black blood and that what had just happened probably never would have happened at all.

Maybe never should have.

Yet it did.

Bilbo turned to Thorin, who stared at him flabbergasted.

"I just…I…"

"Get down!" he shouted.

Bilbo ducked as another Orc tried to attack. Thorin impaled him with his sword and threw the Orc down.

The enemy army ran, chased by the victorious and elated Dwarves.

"I think I'll have to start bringing you to war more often. Though I don't think your mother would be happy with me."

"Who said anything about my mother knowing?" Bilbo asked. "Though, to be honest, I don't really want to do this again."

Thorin chuckled, heading down the cliff.

#

"So…" Bofur said as Bilbo mounted his pony the following morning when the camp had packed up and made to return to Erebor.

Bilbo turned to Bofur and furrowed his brow at the smirk.

"How many did you kill, my lord?"

"Huh…oh! Confound it! I lost count!"

"We'll call it a draw, then," Bofur decided, laughing.

Thorin arched an eyebrow at Bilbo.

"What was that about? A draw?"

"Whoever killed the most Orcs would be bought drinks by the loser."

He chuckled.

"Don't let anyone drink you under the table when we return to Erebor, Bilbo. I don't think it'd be wise for the Prince Consort to be getting out-drunk by his subjects."

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Already had been," he admitted. "I highly doubt a few months had raised my tolerance for Dwarfish mead by much."

Thorin's eyebrows disappeared to his headline.

"All ready?"

"What do you mean 'all ready?' I'm of age! I can drink!"

"I know you're of age. I wouldn't have married you if you weren't."

Bilbo shook his head and trotted ahead, deciding to see how Fili and Kili were fairing.

#

_Bilbo couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned. Then gave up and exited the tent to stoke the fire. Thorin was still sitting on the log, smoking a pipe and occasionally poking at the fire._

_Bilbo stepped closer, breaking a twig. Thorin stood, spinning around with a knife in his hand. Bilbo gasped. Thorin pocketed the weapon. _

"_Can't sleep?"_

"_No."_

_Thorin stepped to the side to make room for Bilbo on the log. Bilbo sat down beside him, staring at the embers flying into the sky. _

"_Is camping usually so uncomfortable?"_

"_Sometimes," Thorin said, "Especially if you find yourself sleeping on top of a tree root. It happens, but certainly does not help one sleep." _

"_No. It doesn't," Bilbo yawned. "Why did you come to the Shire, Thorin?"_

"_For work, mostly," he said. "Ered Luin's been hit hard, so I decided to look for work elsewhere. I heard Hobbiton had need of a blacksmith, so here I am."_

"_Oh." _

_It was simple enough for him. _

_Bilbo leaned against Thorin's arm. The heaviness of his eyelids drooped down until he could fight them no longer and at long last, Bilbo fell asleep, peacefully sleeping against Thorin's arm._


	20. Chapter 20

The night the Ereboran army returned was met with screaming families rushing into the arms of their fathers and brothers. Dis had practiced restraint, waiting for them at the top of the stairs as they entered the mountain.

"When the Ravens came to tell me the good news, I had the culinary guild in an uproar," she assured them. "All the princes' favorites. And, of course, none of the king's."

"Well that's a nice way to greet your brother," Thorin grumped, pouting. Dis slapped the back of his head playfully and hugged Bilbo.

"There is much I'd like to know," she said. "And there are letters as well from a Mrs. Belladonna Baggins."

Bilbo groaned. "I'll have to squeeze in a letter then before she decides to come marching from the Shire and causing a raucous."

"She's your mother," Thorin muttered.

"That somehow makes her my responsibility?" Bilbo asked, frowning at him. Thorin smirked shrugging. Bilbo decided to leave out that with that reasoning then Thorin was equally as responsible as he was her son-in-law.

Bilbo rushed up the stairs to write that letter before the wrath of an angry Hobbit-woman decided to show up at Erebor's gates. He had sat down at his desk when Thorin entered the chamber.

"You haven't changed," he noted.

"No. I'm afraid with the coming festivities, I'll forget to write this before Mother decides to honor her threat and show up."

"True. I'd much rather not explain to her why you had gone to war. At least if I tell her the truth she won't have reason to get mad at me."

"I'm sure she'll have reason. She'll find one if she can…Just hope she doesn't rope Dad into it either otherwise it'd be worse than you think."

Thorin chuckled, stripping off his boots. He sighed, lying on the bed. "Of all the luck to have a feast right after coming home from war! One day, someone will have the common sense to celebrate victory once everyone from the king to the lowliest foot soldier has _rested_!"

Bilbo paused. "Probably best to leave out anything about the war. Otherwise, Mum would come stomping over anyway."

"Write what you think you should. I give no dictation to it other than my own greetings."

"I'm sure she'd be glad to know you're thinking of her, though I'll add Dad to that greeting." He could feel Thorin eyeing him where he sat writing.

He didn't know why Thorin was staring at him. Though he still wore the leather attire he had donned that morning when they made the final stretch home, Thorin was unoccupied and could take full advantage of their bathroom if he wished. Heavens knew! They both smelled bad enough.

A few more minutes passed and he signed the letter, setting the quill down and fixing the cap back on the inkwell. "Is there are reason you have been staring at me this whole time while I wrote?"

"Perhaps," Thorin replied with a cheeky smile. "I have a gorgeous husband. So why should I not stare at him when it pleases me to?" Bilbo rolled his eyes, pretending the cheesy line was not successfully pulling at the corners of his mouth upward.

"Maybe because when you do, you want to do unspeakable things?"

If possible, Thorin's grin got cheekier. "Unspeakable things? Is it meant to be a secret what we do in bed? Do others not indulge so?"

"Stop it," Bilbo mumbled, walking to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a bath and get ready for tonight's feast, which you _ought _to have been doing while I wrote my letter."

Thorin jumped off the bed and followed, sweeping Bilbo into his arms. Bilbo squeaked and latched his arms around Thorin's neck.

"What are you doing?!"

"Did you not say we needed to bathe?"

"Well, yes. But—"

Thorin silenced him with a kiss. "I would very much like to do _unspeakable_ things to you right now."

Bilbo swallowed, "But the feast…"

"We'll make it to the feast," Thorin promised, "But I am rather sure if I don't ravish you this moment, I may lose control in the middle of a hall."

"It'd be the last thing you did!" Bilbo threatened. "But be that as it may, I find there being more merit in letting you do whatever you like _after_ the feast. Surely the Great King under the Mountain can hold back his desire for a few more hours." He gave Thorin an innocent smirk to add.

"I will have to try," Thorin said. "Though I may go mad with want first!"

Bilbo smirked. "That's quite all right with me," he said, kissing Thorin's nose. "Now, shall we make ourselves presentable and go to the Great Hall? I'm actually quite hungry now."

Thorin set him down with a sigh and Bilbo disappeared into the bathroom.

#

The Great Hall was filled with the veterans of the battle against the Gundebad Orcs in Moria.

Thorin's speech rang through the hall, accounting the honor the dead had received in the battle, the vengeance of brothers fallen in battle or murdered in cold blood. (Here, Bilbo had stiffened, anger and horror filling his being. He doubted he'd ever be able to wash that moment completely from his memory. It was too ingrained in his mind by now.) He also honored those who survived, feasting here tonight.

Goblets raised and a unified and toast lead to drinking and feasting. The soldiers danced with their spouses. Brothers laughed and sang together.

Bilbo leaned on the table, eyes closed and trying to breathe. Everything had happened so fast he had not the chance to think on things. He wished the Orcs had not come. Because they had, something in him changed.

"Are you well?" Thorin asked, rubbing his back. Bilbo shook his head.

"I can't wash the blood off. Or the memories," he mumbled. "Don't get me wrong, I am very glad that we defeated Azog, but I am also…I feel ill from all that I've seen."

Thorin kissed the crown of his head. "I had hoped you never would have seen it. But it is too late now and regret will get us nowhere. If it were possible to scourge what haunts you, I'd do so. As it is, those memories never leave. The only thing you can do is not dwell on them. Because once you do, you can fall into an oblivion which is hard to climb out of."

"It's not like it comes to mind every day, but…sometimes it just hits. I can't really describe it any other way."

Thorin nods. "It will do that when you least expect it. Nevertheless, I am here with you. And I will never let anything like that happen again." He kissed Bilbo again. "Try to eat, even just a little bit. And try to have fun. I hear Dain has decided to come to celebrate as well and would like a dance."

"And you're all right with that?"

"So long as he doesn't try anything, I have no reason to deny him. But eat first."

To make his point, Thorin held a raspberry up to Bilbo. Bilbo stared at the fruit a moment. He opened his mouth and took the berry within it, lips briefly wrapping about the tips of Thorin's outstretched fingers wiping the fruit out of Thorin's light grasp with his tongue before pulling away. Thorin's eyes darkened slightly, fixed on Bilbo's mouth.

Bilbo felt pleased by this. To add, the berry had settled his stomach a bit and he ate lightly, mindful his nausea could come back any moment. When certain he could stomach heavier things, he moved for a slice of pork and filled his tankard with mead.

"And I was looking forward to feeding you myself," Thorin grumbled. Bilbo snorted.

"If I had let you, I fear you would have forgotten where we are and ravish me as threatened in front of everyone," he said, pulling Thorin down for a kiss, tugging on his beard. "And that certainly will not do."

"Pity," Thorin sighed, smirking.

"For who? I don't fancy showing off my bits to a crowd of Dwarves! What I will allow in a social setting like this is a dance with my husband before all others who wish to dance with me. Or him."

Thorin's smirk blossomed into a grin as he stood and bowed, offering his hand to Bilbo, who took it with an equal grin. Thorin led him to the dance floor. The floor cleared for them and the music switched to a soft rhythmical beat.

Thorin led Bilbo through the dance, a hand on his hip and the other holding Bilbo's hand, leading him in circles around the floor. Bilbo half didn't know what he was doing. Shire dances were more complex and faster, but this was nice and though he didn't know what he was doing, he was content letting Thorin lead him through the dance.

More partners return to the floor, dancing alongside them. When the song ended, Thorin led Bilbo to Dain, who had previously been dancing with Dis.

"May I steal your husband away for a dance, Thorin?" Dain asked. Thorin nodded, switching partners with ease from Bilbo to Dis. Bilbo still caught the hint of warning he had sent to Dain, who led Bilbo with as much ease in the dance as Thorin had. "It is a pity we had not met since your wedding, Prince Bilbo," he had said.

"Everyone had been busy with the war front, I am sure," Bilbo replied.

"Indeed. Most of us were quite impressed by your daring so far. A couple of the elder ones are still bitter, but there is no reason to fear them. You've earned our respect. Or at least mine outside of Erebor."

"Thank you," Bilbo said. "I know it must be different having a Hobbit beside one of the Seven Dwarf Lords as his consort, but so far everyone has been welcoming. I do wonder how long that will last. I know there are some who are discontent in my being here."

Dain laughed. "Not only quick to lecture and ready to lead, but shrewd of mind as well! Thorin chose his One well, Dwarf or not!"

Bilbo smiled. "I'm glad you think so. Some think it'd be better if I was female at least."

"Well, Thorin is not of such disposition, which would disappoint his father and grandfather, but there is no need to fear for the Line. I am confident in Fili's leadership. Good head on his shoulders. When he's not messing about with his brother."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's obvious given how close they are they are possibly involved."

Bilbo frowned. "If you mean involved romantically, you are wrong, Lord Dain. I do not know about Fili, but Kili has a secret beau whom he has confided to me of. The brothers are just brothers. There is nothing incestuous about their relationship. Sometimes siblings are just very close."

"If Prince Kili has a suitor, why has it not been announced? Why the secrecy?"

Bilbo glanced in Kili's direction. He didn't think Kili would like Bilbo mentioning that he fancies Prince Legolas. "It is not for me to say. You will have to ask him yourself."

"I suppose I will do that then." The song ended and Bilbo was passed to another Lord as Dain went to inquire Kili of who his suitor was if not his brother. How ridiculous were these Dwarves?! Why would they think Fili and Kili were romantically together?

What a rude assumption! When he was passed back to Thorin and informed him of it, he had laughed.

"To be honest, they used to assume the same of me and Dis," he whispered. "And others assumed Frerin and Dis were together. When word got to my father, well, let's say the Lords who had assumed so couldn't walk properly since."

Bilbo did not laugh. "But that's rude!"

"And yet dynastical incest used to be practiced until my great-grandfather, Nain, put an end to that tradition."

"Not that I'm _not_ glad he did, but why?"

"He had a sister and they were forced to marry though they had their own Ones. As soon as their father Oin had passed, they separated and married to their Ones. It was the better arrangement and since had not been adhered to."

"Well, I'm glad."

"As am I! Fond though I am of Dis, I wouldn't survive a marriage to my sister! Or my brother!"


	21. Chapter 21

After they bid goodnight to the guests and waited until the hall had thoroughly emptied until leaving themselves, the king and his consort finally decided to go to bed. Bilbo half expected Thorin to attack at any moment and that put him on guard. But being on guard did not mean he did not have a little fun driving Thorin mad while taking his time talking to Dis about having breakfast tomorrow while Thorin was at court.

If Bilbo could be honest, he derived some pleasure in making Thorin wait.

Eventually he bade goodnight and went to their chambers, thinking Thorin had gone ahead. In such a mind-state, Bilbo dropped his guard. Before reaching the door to his and Thorin's room, two arms seized Bilbo into their embrace, startling him.

"No escape now," Thorin growled in his ear, nipping the sensitive curve of flesh. In a few quick strides, they were back in their room. The door slammed behind Thorin. Bilbo shifted his position so to look in Thorin's eyes.

"Have I driven you mad long enough?"

"Torturously so," Thorin replied, sitting on the bed. Bilbo shifted again to straddle Thorin's lap. "I thought I had wed a gentle-natured Hobbit. Not a vindictive fae."

"Fae!" Bilbo laughed. "I know Hobbits are little known but _fae_? Nor am I vindictive! I'm torn between flattery and insult!"

"How shall I atone for such a grievance?" Thorin asked, smirking and quirking his eyebrows.

Bilbo hummed, kissing him, gently biting Thorin's bottom lip, the beard scratching him lightly. "If it'd please you, O King, I'd like to have my husband back for the night…Maybe during the day, tomorrow, if he can get away from his work, also."

"I can provide him tonight and the day _after_ tomorrow. Sadly, tomorrow itself is nonnegotiable."

"Pity," Bilbo murmured, moving to nip at Thorin's neck. "Perhaps I should make you abstain a little longer? I'm sure you could hold off until tomorrow night."

"Don't you dare," Thorin growled. "The few long hours during the celebration were torturous enough!" Bilbo hummed, sucking at Thorin's tender neck, the short hairs there scratching his skin and tongue. "I pray never to go through that again."

"Tough luck then," Bilbo teased, pulling away from the attention he gave Thorin's neck. "I like making you squirm when you're the mood." Bilbo claimed Thorin's lips, hands working through Thorin's ceremonial garb. He pushed the coat off his shoulders, followed by Thorin's tunic. He ran his fingers through course hair, pushing Thorin onto his back.

Thorin growled, nearly tearing Bilbo's own clothes in the attempt to undress him. Bilbo squeaked, slapping Thorin's chest.

"Watch it!"

"They can be repaired," Thorin assured him, rolling over with Bilbo to lie on top of him and pin his hands overhead.

They groaned when their clothed shafts pressed against each other. Thorin released one of Bilbo's hands only to grasp them both in one of his while the free hand unlaced Bilbo's trousers. He swallowed the whine pushing it's way out of Bilbo's mouth with a fierce kiss as his fingers brushed against Bilbo's pulsing, still regretfully clothed cock.

Once pants were pulled off his legs, Bilbo's small clothes were almost torn with the force Thorin emitted in taking them off. Thorin released Bilbo's hands, sliding his hands down Bilbo's sides, pausing at his hips. He licked from root to tip, smirking at the hiss Bilbo released. He kissed the head before engulfing it in his mouth, his hold on Bilbo's hips tightening.

Bilbo keened, trying to escape Thorin's grasp and thrust up into the hot caverns of Thorin's mouth. "Thorin…Thorin…" He grasped the sheets, his knuckles bone white. His toes curled and flexed. Thorin released his cock and straightened, removing the rest of his own clothes before joining Bilbo on the bed again, kissing, nipping, sucking…softly murmuring "I love you," "Treasure," "Beloved," "Song," and other endearments.

Thorin reached over to the nightstand to pick up the bottle of oil, spilling it on fingers and warming the sweet scent between his fingers before loosening Bilbo's muscles and sliding two within. Bilbo groaned, shuddering as Thorin prodded his hole and pushed against the walls within. A third finger joined quickly. Bilbo gasped at the shock.

"All right?"

"Yes," Bilbo managed to gasp out. "I'm fine. Just…give me a moment." Bilbo panted, waiting for the pain to ebb. Thorin was as still as he could be. His only movement was to kiss Bilbo's shoulder and neck. "Okay," Bilbo said. "Go." Thorin's fingers pushed, twisted, thrust, and crooked into him before pulling out. Thorin turned Bilbo back around to face him, stroking his length in oil.

Bilbo swallowed, spreading his legs apart for Thorin's descent. Thorin pulled him closer. Bilbo wrapped his legs around Thorin's waist, resting his ankles against Thorin's back as they could not quite reach all the way around him. Thorin kissed him, pressing his tongue against Bilbo's lips, asking for entrance. Bilbo opened his mouth and Thorin's tongue slid inside.

He thrust against Bilbo until they had joined. He paused, allowing Bilbo to adjust to his girth. "Thorin," Bilbo groaned. Thorin slide out till only the head of his cock remained inside then thrust back in, adjusting the angle so to hit Bilbo's prostate. Bilbo's back arched and his vision blurred to white. He clung to Thorin, nails digging into the shoulders, leaving crescent moon prints along the skin.

Thorin's pace quickened. One of Bilbo's hands slipped between them, tugging on his weeping, red-purple cock.

His seed spilled over his hands. Bilbo's grip laxed and he let his hands fall to rest beside him as Thorin continued to pound into him. His cock was trying to reawaken at the continued strain. Bilbo gasped, arching his back again when Thorin released within him.

"Oh…" Bilbo moaned. Thorin collapsed on top of him when the orgasm passed. He planted lazy kisses on Bilbo's face before pulling out to go and clean him up. By then, Bilbo had already fallen asleep, murmuring a soft, "I love you" to Thorin.

~Hobbiton, 2980 (1380 Shire Reckoning)~

The last time Kili had been here, it was to witness the birth of the Consort's favorite cousin's son. At the time, Bilbo had been requested to come and bless the babe. Kili had gone with him, because he was curious and never saw a baby before, he was allowed to hold the child and did so, awed by the sheer _tininess_ of him.

The Consort would have come himself, had his age and health allowed it. But as it was, a ninety year old Hobbit should _not_ be making treks through Middle Earth's wilderness. Nor could the King for the same reasons and Fili was busy with his own family as his wife was now expecting a little one of their own. So Kili had volunteered to go instead when the message of the latest tragedy to hit the Baggins family with the death of Drogo and Primula, a direct result being the orphaning of twelve year old Frodo.

A boy ran in front of the ponies. Kili halted his steed, which reared up. The child gasped with wide eyes, holding a ball in his hands. Three others ran out beside him, pulling him back. When the pony had calmed, Kili dismounted.

"You all right, lads?" he asked. A soldier took the mount's reigns.

"We're sorry, Mister Dwarf!" one of the boys whimpered, eyes wide. Kili chuckled, kneeling.

"I'm not mad. I promise. To be honest, I used to do the same. But don't do it again. You're parents won't be happy knowing you got injured while playing."

"Okay," they chimed, fear dissipating once knowing they wouldn't be yelled at.

"Do any of you know where I can find Frodo Baggins?" he asked. The lad holding the ball, with very blue eyes and ebony hair stepped forward.

"I'm Frodo Baggins. Are you from Dwarf Mountain?"

Kili laughed again. "I am. My name is Kili, son of Dis, Daughter of Thrain, at your service. You're Uncle Bilbo sent me."

"Why couldn't he come himself?"

"Well, he is very old now. So is the king, his husband. His beard reaches his toes now," Kili laughed, stroking his stubbly chin. He had found a way to grow a small beard and keep practicing his bow. Goatees came in handy, it seemed. "They're both far too old now to come all the way to the Shire from Dwarf Mountain. Otherwise they'd have come instead of me. The King has extended an invitation to you to come and live in Dwarf Mountain if you like."

"Will that make me a prince?"

"I suppose it would."

"Would that make you my brother?"

"I would be your cousin, actually, like we already are."

"Will I be able to come back whenever I want?"

"I'm afraid not until you're much older. But I don't see why we can't find a way for you and a troupe of guards to come by for a short while as you grow up. But it may be a while before then."

Frodo tapped his chin. "Okay. It sounds better than being with Aunt Lobelia anyway."

Kili wondered how much Frodo really understood by what he had been told. Kili didn't like the idea of taking the lad so far from home, but Bilbo had insisted on taking Frodo in when news of Frodo being in one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins' care came to light. And that meant taking the long road through Troll, Orc, Warg, Spider, and Goblin infested wilderness. While it was true that the possibility of running into trouble was limited, it was not wholly out of the reach of possibility.

He and his guards followed Frodo to a house with a green door. He wiped his feet and entered. "Be back soon," he whispered, holding a finger to his mouth. The door closed softly behind him. Kili waited by the fence with the others.

"What do we do if things turn sour?" Ori asked, approaching.

"We do what must. The Ravens likely already sent the Thain Bilbo's letter, so it shouldn't be unheard of that we were coming for the lad."

Ori nodded, humming. "Still," he said, "I wonder what we would have done if the lad said no."

Kili wished Ori had not brought it up. He had worried about that the whole journey. It was easier than he thought when he told Frodo. The other three, on the other hand, they didn't seem all that keen on the idea of Frodo leaving.

The door opened again and Frodo stepped out, a backpack on his shoulders and rubbing his cheek. His eye were red rimmed, but he smiled and lowered his hand. Kili's stomach churned at the red mark against the child's cheek.

"Can we go now?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Yes," Kili said. Whoever "Lobelia" was to Frodo and Bilbo, Kili didn't like her. From the way Ori was holding his ax, the Warrior-Scribe didn't like her any more than Kili did.

"Would you like to ride Daisy?"Ori asked, offering the steed. Frodo nodded. Gimli lifted the lad onto the pony, mumbling in Khuzdul how anyone could possibly have it in them to hit a child. Kili found it just as unfathomable.

The more distance they placed between them and that house, the happier Frodo became, though the mark was still very red. Several Hobbits tutted as they passed. Whether because of the entourage or not, Kili was limited in saying. They stopped at the Thain's smial so Kili could meet with him. Frodo played with his cousins in the yard.

"I have questions concerning Frodo's wellbeing since his parents passed," Kili said, sitting at the table across from the Thain. "Namely about his guardian, Lobelia. When we went with Frodo to get his things, he went in alone to gather them and came out with a mark on his cheek. Does this Lobelia often take to hitting children? Or just Frodo in particular?"

"Ah, yes. Lobelia." The Thain's nose scrunched up and his gaze darkened. "Everyone knew how she had been treating Frodo," the Thain sighed. "But it's against our laws to interfere unless the child tells us. Frodo wouldn't say a peep, though we knew something was wrong. Some children think it shows strength to suffer in silence, not knowing it's not necessary for them to suffer at all. Frodo is such a lad."

Kili understood. He was the same when he was Frodo's age. He also remembered a time coming home all beaten up and his mother demanding to know what had happened. He had shrugged it off, saying it was nothing. After, Thorin had pulled him aside and told him he understood how Kili felt in keeping silent, but at the same time, it was not wise and that wisdom and strength need to be balanced together.

Letting one be beaten by bigger, older Dwarrows, apparently, when ganged up on and keeping silent about it, was not actually wise or strong.

"So when I got Prince Bilbo's letter, I was quite happy. Frodo had been expecting you daily, poor boy. When do you leave for Erebor?" the Thain asked.

"In the morning. I think the sooner we leave, the better," Kili smiled. "Frodo is in good hands. Dwarves do not treat children cruelly as there are so few born. Children are a blessing and there is no doubt in my mind that Frodo will be cherished."

He glanced out the window to see Frodo playing a game of tag with one of the boys from earlier and three young girls.

"He'll fit right in."


End file.
